#but Duck guy would still try to measure the way he likes and keep turning up the heat when he felt like it was going too slow

[lulubeanie]

My stance on the 3 of them is that Duck guy can cook pretty well but gets impatient with how fast things are cooking and turns up the heat way too early so he always burns it at least a little. he has started many fires this way. he doesn’t like to use a recipe and likes to eyeball the ingredients, which is why I think he cannot bake at all

Red guy is a decent cook and ok baker, nothing too fancy but he's pretty good at both and rarely has any mishaps. I also think he can grill pretty well. he's not the best with seasoning things though

Yellow guy seems like the type to be pretty good at both as long as he has a recipe to work off and all the right ingredients. but I also think he's a little clumsy and will make a mess along the way. especially with baking, flour will be all over the place

[magmahearts]

TIMING: sometime before kaden got snacked on PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @magmahearts LOCATION: a latte to love SUMMARY: kaden is just trying to get his job and remove a pin ball from a coffee shop. cass thinks this situation needs a superhero. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

Before arriving, Kaden wondered if the call about a “weird hedgehog rolling around like sonic” (whatever that last part meant) at A Latte to Love was a prank or not. He didn’t have the best reputation at the cafe and he wouldn’t put it past someone to make shit up for animal control to come running. Still, he did his due diligence, grabbed a cage, a net, his snare, and a few knives just for good measure, and headed downtown. 

When he saw patrons charging out of the shop, some protecting their coffee instead of themselves, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a prank call. Putain. He swung the door open and ushered as many people as he could through the threshold before stepping in himself.

Something told him this probably wasn’t going to be a normal hedgehog or even a porcupine. More than likely it was some supernatural bullshit. He heard the clanging of metal before he saw what looked like a metal baseball covered in spikes rolling across the floor. 

A fucking pin bill. Putain. 

“Everyone out!” he shouted to the few stragglers. The employees behind the counter who were too afraid to abandon their shift for whatever reason looked confused. “Back room. Now!’ he told them, pointing to what looked like the door to the back of the shop. “Keep the door shut.” 

Once the place was clear, it was time to get to work. First thing first, he had to get the thing to calm down. Kaden slipped over into a corner and hid behind one of the larger, plush chairs. He opened the cage and shoved it out towards the open, the back against the wall. He had no delusions that the little guy would just roll right in it, but on the off chance it might, it would be stupid not to be ready. He looked down at his arsenal. He wasn’t sure his net was going to cut it,  not against those spikes. He’d have to get creative. 

Kaden glanced around the cafe, past the up-turned chairs and tables, the dishes on the floor, and the coffee and other beverages spilled everywhere, trying to find anything that could be useful. Maybe there was something behind the counter that would be useful. He just had to get there. 

–

When you saw people running away from something, instinct was supposed to tell you to run with them. After all, no one took off in a full sprint to get away from something fun. More often than not, they were looking to save themselves from some awful, terrifying ordeal, and the human mind tended to want to do the same for whatever body it was sitting in. But there were exceptions to every rule. People ran away from danger. Superheroes ran towards it.

Cass was much more interested in being the latter.

So, when she saw a group of people running and screaming from a coffee shop, there was no real hesitation. She managed to stop one of the patrons who seemed calm enough to speak, asking them what was going on. Sonic’s lost his mind, the boy had sighed, looking distressed. The hedgehog is going to kill someone. And… Well, Cass had no idea what that meant. But she thought it probably sounded like a job for Magma.

It was moments like this when she wished phone booths were still a thing. It would be so cool to jump into a phone booth, drop her glamour, and jump out. But cell phones had killed that particular superhero cliche long before Cass got into the game, so she was stuck ducking into an alley instead. It was fine. It wasn’t like there was any real pizzazz to dropping her glamour, anyway. It just would have been cooler in a phone booth, was all.

Sufficiently ‘disguised,’ she made her way back to the cafe. All the customers were gone by now, having already retreated to the safety of the streets. Cass pulled the door open, the bell above it letting out a pleasant ding as she stepped inside. There was still a man in here. She blinked at him. “I think everyone else already left,” she told him. About as soon as she’d gotten the words out, a metal ball rolled by her, shooting out spikes. Cass narrowly avoided catching one with another owlish blink. “Whoa. Is that Sonic?”

—

Before Kaden could dart behind the cafe counter, he heard the little ring of the bell above the door. “Hey, we’re clo…” His voice trailed off when he got a look at who walked through the door – possibly more like what, not that he knew what that was, either. Whoever they were, their skin was covered in dark rocks, accentuated by orange, glowing cracks sunk in, winding like veins. If he had to describe it, she looked like some sort of molten core or at least what he imagined that would look like. He’d only ever seen volcanoes on video and he planned on keeping it that way. 

He was so slack jawed and whoever it was that walked in that he nearly missed the flying ball of spikes headed right towards him. “Putain!” he shouted as he ducked, throwing himself to the ground as the pin ball flew past and rolled up the wall like it was a goddamn ramp before launching itself back across the room. “Why do people keep saying that?” he asked, looking back up at her. 

Wait, damnit, the bar. This was his chance. Kaden pulled himself off the floor and remained crouching, watching the small, frightened, deadly creature. It was on the other side of the room, uncurled for the moment, breathing so heavily that Kaden could see it from where he was. Alright, so not calm, but calm enough. The hunter sprinted to the bar and leapt over the counter, ducking behind the espresso machines right as the beast tucked itself into a sphere again and launched itself across the cafe. He started to look for anything helpful, preferably metal. He wondered if the little pots or whatever they were for steaming the milk would be big enough to contain the little guy. 

Merde, he almost forgot that he wasn't alone. That other… whatever-she-was was still there. He tried to run through what he’d learned throughout his hunter training but nothing that looked like that came to mind. The hell was she? She wasn’t a shifter, he’d have felt that, and no undead would look like that, he was positive. Fae? Maybe? What the fuck kind of fae would that be, anyway? Did that make her… a demon? “Uh, like I was trying to say, we’re closed. Come back some other time. But, leave… Please.” He really didn’t want to deal with a fucking demon today, a pin ball was more than enough.

—

The man was staring at her. That was okay; Cass was kind of used to that. People always stared at her when she was like this. Part of her had thought, when she’d first started to uncover the weirdness of Wicked’s Rest, that things might be a little different in this town. In a place where metal balls that looked like cyberpunk Sonic the Hedgehogs rolled through coffee shops shooting spikes at people, someone with rocky skin and glowing veins wasn’t the weirdest thing around, right? But people still ran from the cafe. People still stared at Cass. And that was fine. They could stare if they wanted to. She was still going to save the day.

“What’s a putain?” She asked, making no move to duck behind anything. She tended to lean towards recklessness more often than not; it was difficult to break through her rocky skin, and she didn’t think the hedgehog thing was capable of it. There was no need to hide from it, right? “Saying what? Sonic? It’s a video game. Have you never heard of Sonic the Hedgehog? They made it into a movie. The guy who played Cyclops is in it. They had to redo all the CGI because he had ugly human teeth. Do you, like, not go on the internet?”

The man was sprinting across the room before Cass was even finished speaking, and she thought he was going for the hedgehog for a moment. “Hey, I don’t think that’s a great —- idea?” Rather than do something stupid, like leap on top of the little hedgehog, the man jumped behind the counter and started… rummaging through the coffee stuff? “Are you making hot chocolate? They have a really good caramel hot chocolate here, but it’s kind of hot for that. It’s June.” 

Carefully, Cass crept across the room to stand by the counter, looking around for where the hedgehog had run to. It was… ah! There! Looking around the empty cafe with an expression so like a frightened animal that it made her chest ache. Cass moved towards it slowly, pausing when the man spoke again. “What? No way, dude. I’m here to help. I’m a superhero. And this little guy needs to be rescued. Right, Sonic?” 

—

Kaden started to rummage through the items behind the bar. The metal cups were interesting, he wondered if they were big enough to contain the pin ball long enough to get it into a crate. Before he could assess one way or the other, he realized that he still wasn’t alone. “Huh?” he said, looking up at her just standing there, no fear. “Putain is just a curse word and– could you duck or hide ro something? That thing runs into you, those spikes aren’t going to be like video game damage or whatever it is.” Alright, sure, she was covered in rocks all over her skin (maybe?) but that didn’t seem like a solid reason to stand there like a fucking target. “Or you can leave. That might be safer.”

He had no idea what she was talking about or what any of it meant but what he did know is that she was clearly not leaving. “Bordel de merde,” he grumbled to himself, looking for a bowl or pan or something bigger than the cups, maybe a dust pan, even. “Hot chocolate latte, huh? I’m not making anyth– Look, if you’re going to stay here, look for something that can contain the thing, alright?” The least she could do was attempt to be useful, but somehow he had a feeling this whole thing was just going to be more difficult than needed.

Metal cups, a plastic bowl, and his net in hand, Kaden looked up where he assumed the lava kid was. Only she wasn’t there by the counter anymore. She was approaching the pin ball. Goddamnit. “Hey,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low, “don’t scare it. If you get too close it’s gonna–” And then it took off, whirling and whizzing around the room at top speed again, sending more furniture and broken dishware scattering around the place. “That. It’s gonna do that,” he said, gesturing to the spinning creature. He ducked when it reeled to roll along the side of the counter, just in case it went careening towards him. 

Who the fuck was this kid, anyway? “A superhero?” he repeated once he popped up from behind the counter again. “What do you fucking mean a superhero? This isn’t a damn comic book, in case you didn’t notice.” 

—

“Really? I’ve never heard it before. And I’ve heard a lot of curse words.” Growing up on the streets had taught her all kinds. But not putain. She wondered if he was just making it up. Humans lied about the strangest things, sometimes. “I don’t think it’s going to run at me,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I’m hard to damage.” Oreads certainly weren’t invincible — Cass had learned that the hard way more than once — but she was pretty sure she could handle a hedgehog. Even if the hedgehog was a little… hedgier than the usual fare. “I’m not going to leave, though. I’m here to help.” 

He looked like he probably needed help. What was he grabbing bowls and stuff for? The question was answered before she could ask it aloud — something to contain the hedgehog. She furrowed her brow, looking at the guy’s uniform. “Aren’t you supposed to be animal control? Why are you containing Sonic with bowls and stuff? Don’t you have equipment? Did the state cut your budget? That happens in Parks and Rec, you know. That’s when Ben Wyatt comes in, and the show gets really good. So maybe it’s not such a bad thing.” 

She approached the hedgehog as she spoke, uninterested in finding a bowl to put it in. Why would she want to stick it in a bowl? It wasn’t, like, soup or anything. It was a hedgehog. And it was kind of cute, if you could get past the whole ‘rolling ball of death’ angle that had sent the rest of the cafe’s patrons running. Cass felt a faint sense of kinship with it. Nobody really liked staying around her, either. They were scared of her, too. But… maybe Sonic was included in the list of people who were frightened by her.

Her face fell as the animal skirted past her. “You’re the one who scared it,” she accused sullenly, though she had no idea if that was true. She just wanted to think that Sonic would be more interested in being her friend if the situation were a little different. “I know this isn’t a comic book. But in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot of weird stuff here. A superhero isn’t the weirdest. And I think this town could use one. A lot more than Metropolis, actually.”

—

Kaden rolled his eyes. He really didn’t need anyone criticizing him when he worked. Especially not when they were also in the way. “Animal control equipment isn’t made with monsters in mind.” She kept talking and he wasn’t sure if it was relevant or not, but it was distracting. “And there’s no Ben Wyatt in my department. I don’t know who that is.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the creature skittered around, startled all over again. When she had the gall to blame him, the hunter could only narrow his eyes and glare at the kid. Even being a… whatever she was, he knew that he was dealing with a kid somehow. He also knew she was making this five times more difficult than it had to be. “Well, have you tried being a superhero there instead?” He asked. 

With a sigh, Kaden accepted that he was going to have to work with her instead of kick her out. Putain de merde. “Alright, you can help. But I need you to at least work with me.” And stop getting in the way. He put a finger to his lips, asking her to be quiet. He wasn’t sure if she was capable of that. He crouched down and motioned for her to do the same. “If you go behind it quietly, we might be able to lure it into the crate over there,” he said in a low voice, pointing to the open cage. “Then we can bring it somewhere out to the woods far away from people where it’s going to be a lot happier. Yes?”

—

“It’s a little mean to call him a monster.” Her voice was tighter than she meant for it to be. Was a thing a monster just because you didn’t see it every day? Just because it looked a little scary, just because it had the capability to hurt? That wasn’t fair. People had the capability to hurt, too. Humans, nymphs, vampires, any of them could hurt someone. It didn’t make any of them monsters, and it didn’t make Sonic one, either. “No it’s — It’s from Parks and Rec. The show. Have you not seen Parks and Rec? Dude.”

Did this guy not know what Metropolis was? Or Parks and Rec? Cass found herself feeling a little bad for him, honestly. He seemed grumpy, but if she’d never seen or read any Superman material and never seen one of the best sitcoms of all time, she’d probably be a little grumpy, too. She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m going to lend you some comic books later. Okay?” Superheroism wasn’t always stopping poor little hedgehogs from tearing up coffee shops. Sometimes, it was also making grumpy French Animal Control officers less grumpy. Cass would gladly accept her key to the city, like, any day now.

Grinning, she clapped her hands together. Without her glamour, it made less of a slapping sound and more of a thud, but the excitement was clear on her face anyway. “Okay! I can do that. Teamup issues are, like, some of my favorites.” She quieted down as he motioned for her to do so, crouching beside him with an expression of deep concentration. “And we’re letting it go, right? Somewhere where it can be safe? You promise?” She wanted to help, but only if she was sure that Sonic would be okay. 

—

Kaden wasn’t sure why her comment made him feel guilty. He sighed as he looked at the little pin ball, snuffling under one of the overturned tables, its breathing heavy and eyes wide, clearly still panicked. “Fine. You have a point,” he conceded. “Old habits die hard.” He hoped she didn’t ask too many questions about that. Too much to explain there  

“I’ve seen the parks and recs department here, yeah. If you mean some other thing then absolutely not.” He was at least pretty sure that neither of his cousins had made him watch that yet. And if they had, it didn’t matter, he hadn’t paid attention. “Comic books?” he asked, looking up from the collection of bowls and other accouterments he’d laid out. “I’m good, promise. You can keep them”

Alright, it was a little cute that she was excited about teaming up for this superhero thing or whatever she thought this was. Not that he was going to admit that or show it. At all. This was still dangerous and not something she should be handling. “This is just a temporary team up, got it? This one time. Limited edition or whatever you call it.” 

“We’re letting it go, yeah. Promise. It’s dangerous as shit but it’s only because it’s scared and ended up where it shouldn’t be.” He tried not to make a pointed glance towards the kid because, speaking of being where they shouldn’t be…  “Okay, I’m going to be on that side of the shop. I’m going to try and funnel it into that,” he said, pointing towards the crate he’d set up earlier. “Try and direct it this way. Take a bowl.” He handed her one of the metal bowls. “Use it as a shield if you need to. Don’t get hurt.” He gave her a look before nodding and heading to his corner. 

He really hoped she wasn’t going to fuck this up. “Ready?” he asked.

—

He seemed to relent, and Cass felt a strange sense of relief at that. As if this little hedgehog not being considered a monster meant that she wasn’t, either, as if running around a cafe in a panic was the same thing as leaving a girl’s body at the bottom of a ditch. Fear could make a person — or a hedgehog — do all kinds of things, couldn’t it? If Sonic’s fear didn’t make him a monster, could Cass insist that hers didn’t, either?  “Why is it an old habit?” Curiosity drove the question, and she wondered how long this man had been chasing hedgehogs.

“No, not…” Cass trailed off, wondering if this whole endeavor was a useless one. Had this guy ever done anything but chase hedgehogs? Had he sprout from the ground fully formed with a hedgehog-chasing goal as the only thing in his mind? And a French accent, apparently? “No, you’re definitely borrowing some. This is sad. You’re making me sad.” She just felt bad for him, at this point. 

But the team up was still exciting. “A one-shot. Got it.” As if every one-shot didn’t sprout into something bigger so long as it was popular enough. She and French Guy were totally going to get the real-life equivalent of their own team-up ongoing title after this, she could feel it. They just had to take care of Sonic first.

She smiled as he promised they’d be letting the little creature go, binding him to it just in case. He didn’t strike her as the kind of person who’d lie about that, but Cass knew that it was better to be safe than sorry, sometimes. Humans lied about all sorts of silly things. You could never be too careful, especially not when there was a spikey little life on the line. 

Taking the bowl, she nodded. “You got it, boss. Don’t worry about me. I’m tough.” Walking over to stand off to the side between the door and the crate, she shifted her grip on the bowl to flash her partner a quick thumbs up. “Ready!”

—

“Uh…” Kaden reached back to rub the back of his neck. Didn’t know how to explain that one. Well, beyond the truth, at least. “You know, just how some colleagues refer to some of the stranger animals around here.” Not a complete lie but certainly not the truth of the matter. He wasn’t sure what she was but he knew well enough that introducing himself as a hunter then and there was probably not the best idea. At least not until after the pin ball was contained.

“Good,” he said after she told him that he made her sad. As much as he tried to keep it off his face, a small smile peaked through. He’d never quite bantered with his sister like this, Keira was always far too serious for that, but it felt almost like something that could have been. It certainly reminded him of talking to Alex. He wondered if they were the same age. Not that he’d know by looking at her all covered in rocks and lava. “Alright, let’s get this one-shot over with.”

Kaden crept around the side of the counter, searching for where the little guy had run off to. He was still under a table, snuffling around for crumbs, but still alert and ready to dart off at any moment. Which was fine, it could dart away, it just had to do it at the right moment and in the right direction. Kaden took quiet, crouched steps forward, inching closer to the beast, a bowl in hand in case he could manage to trap it himself. Just a little closer now. His arm stretched out, he was about to drop the bowl on top of it and then–

“Putain,” he grumbled as he knocked his head onto the side of a table. And with that, the creature was off and spinning. Kaden ducked and tried to cover his face with the bowl in case it spun in his direction. It was up to his “sidekick” now, he supposed. 

—-

“Well, they shouldn’t do that,” Cass replied, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn’t fair. Not to the hedgehog, not to any of them. Calling something a monster just because you didn’t understand it was exactly the kind of behavior that made the fae who raised her so afraid of humans. When they convinced themselves that you were a monster, they said, it made them feel as though they had a right to do whatever they wanted to you. 

Good? Good? Cass shot him a glare, though she had to try to hide her own smile as she did so. This was kind of fun, wasn’t it? None of the other young fae in her aos si had ever had much interest in interacting with her, though there hadn’t been any close to her age, anyway. But she liked to imagine this was the kind of interaction she’d missed out on with them — gentle ribbing, fond teasing. Like she’d seen on TV, or read in comics. Friendly banter. She knew all about that. “I’m going to put slime in your socks,” she told him seriously. That was a thing people said, she was sure of it. “Okay, but I’m Spider-Man. You can be… the Hulk or something. There aren’t a lot of French heroes, sorry. Oh! Northstar is French-Canadian. Do you want to be Northstar?” 

French Animal Control Guy was doing his thing, so Cass did hers. She crouched down, bowl in hand, and watched Northstar dart towards Sonic and… fail miserably. At least he’d tried, she guessed, even if he was ducking like a guy in an old war movie now. With him out of commission, Cass knew it was up to her. No big deal, whatever. That was how one-shot comics usually went, anyway. 

Moving forward, Cass took a… slightly different approach. She pounded a rocky hand against the metal bowl, spooking the hedgehog. It jumped up, scampering away from her… and into the trap her ‘partner’ had laid out. Quickly, Cass slammed the door shut and latched it with a cheer. “Hell yeah! Spider-Man and Northstar save the day! US-Canada relations have never been better!”

—-

“Slime in my socks?” Kaden asked, raising a brow. Was that a thing with kids or something? He hadn’t heard Alex tell him that but she was usually teasing him about his hair so maybe she just didn’t get around to it. “As long as you don’t put it on that video clock app thing.” She was odd, that was for sure, but somehow endearing. It was almost annoying. It made trying to tell her to go away a lot harder. That was, until she suggested that he be some French-Canadian guy. The ranger shot her a look. “I would rather die than be québécois.”

Despite the insult, she still managed to steer the pin ball right into the cage. He was almost impressed. Not that he couldn’t have managed this whole mess by himself. Probably would have been faster, too. Still, he sighed and stood up, brushing any debris off his pants before setting the bowl back on the counter. “Alright, now it’s time to get this little guy off where he actually belongs.” Kaden started gathering his supplies, getting the rest of his gear together before he took the handle of the crate. “You did alright, kid. Or, uh, what’d you say, Spider-man?” His head tilted as he looked back over at her. “You look more like a, uh, I don’t know, Lava Girl? Something like that. Not sure where the spider thing came from but sure.” He shrugged. It was all a foreign concept to him, the super hero stuff. “Guess I should thank you or something.” It then occurred to him that she might take that as an invitation to “help” him some other time. “Next time, you can just leave it to me, alright?” 

—

“You heard me,” she warned, pointing at him with an expression she fought to keep serious. When he spoke of a clock app, her brow furrowed. “I’m pretty sure no one is putting anything in their clock app except for alarms.” What was a video clock app? Was that some new alarm system? She didn’t use alarms much herself — not having a job meant she woke up when she woke up. Maybe this ‘video clock app’ was something people used now. She couldn’t imagine anyone her age putting much stock in it, though. Thoughts of this mysterious clock app faded when the guy shot her a look, apparently unhappy with being compared to Northstar. “I don’t know what that means,” she said, brow furrowing. “Is this because Northstar is gay? I don’t know any straight French superheroes. You’re asking for too much here. Anyway, Northstar is cool.” 

In any case, the one-shot ended just as successfully as one-shots tended to in the comics. No Kingpin showing up to kick off some wider plot and announce a new title, no major character death to be undone by the next issue. Just a little spikey hedgehog safely tucked away in a cage. “You have to keep him safe,” she reminded the man. “You promised.” But she wasn’t particularly worried about him keeping it, bind or no. Praise, even from a stranger, made her sit up a little straighter, and she smiled. “Actually, it’s Magma. I go by Magma.” And he didn’t even know comics well enough to know she’d ‘borrowed’ the name from X-Men. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my job.” Her self-assigned job that no one paid her for. Whatever. “And, just so you know? I’m definitely going to keep doing it.” There was no apology in her tone; it wasn’t a request for him to try to stop her. It was just… a friendly warning.

—

“Alarms? No this is the one with the dancing and the pranks that my cousin is on all the time. Something about ticks? I don’t fucking know.” Kaden was sure she knew what it was. If she could rattle off all this shit about superheroes and media and what not, she knew about the clock app. “What? What does this have to do with anyone being gay?” Kaden couldn’t follow any of this, there was too much jargon to keep up with. Then he realized. He ran his palm down his face. “Not queer, québécois. As in French-Canadian. Meaning he’s Canadian, not French. I’m French. And I’m not fucking straight, either. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ll do my best. I’m going to find the safest spot I can in the woods for him to spin around. Somewhere far away from town.” And somewhere far away from the cabin. Just in case the spinning death ball decided to spin right into the wooden walls. Seemed like a bad idea. “Right,” he said when he called this her job. “This is actually my job, I get paid for this. But guess there are worse sidekicks to have. Take care of yourself, Magma.”

—

“Do you mean TikTok? Dude.” Somebody needed to get this guy on Urban Dictionary. Or… maybe not. Cass wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t lose his mind. He’d probably start using slang from 2012 if he tried, and that just sounded painful. “What’s wrong with being French-Canadian?” Now she understood him even less. But, hey, at least he had one thing going for him: “Oh, hell yeah, you gay little Frenchman! Be gay, do crime!” She raised a hand excitedly, cheering him on.

Now that she knew Sonic would be safe, it was easier to relax. The animal control guy would keep his promise, the hedgehog would be okay, and Cass had a new sidekick to call on. She just… needed to educate him a little bit first. She’d find an easy comic series to introduce him to. It’d be fine. “You take care of yourself, too, Notstar. I’ll see you around.” With a sloppy salute, she ducked out of the cafe. Not bad for a day’s work.

[raiiryuu]

continued - @fairybond

Laxus kept his gaze fixed at a point just above the stellar mage's head, needing to focus more on his hearing but not wanting to lose the benefit of peripheral vision. (He'd look like they were speaking, head canted forward just so, even if his gaze wasn't on her at all. The things you learn on S-Class jobs.) Scents would be too muddled in the crowd, and if he could see them, it'd be too likely they could see him. Next best thing, then. He could make out the paces of passing individuals from here, they weren't too deep into the alleyway, but the specific one he was looking for was--

--there. A slight limp from having knocked into a produce cart of some sort while pursuing them, slowly getting fainter. He counted the strides, trying to measure the distance covered. Five, ten, fifteen, but by twenty they faded even from his hearing. They'd actually moved, then, instead of attempting to shuffle quieter and fool him. (Not that it'd worked the first time someone tried that, either.)

It was only after a solid two minutes of this that he realized he was still penning Lucy in, quickly stepping back and allowing her space again. Though he typically considered himself good at keeping his thoughts on the task at hand, her expression (and the fact she'd been utterly silent and still ever since they'd ducked down this way) gave him pause. A hand rose to the back of his neck, his gaze shifting to the end of the alley they'd come from, still scanning the crowd as he spoke.

"...sorry. Would've given more warning if I could." Idiot. You dragged her into this mess, and now look how things turned out. "Should be clear now, but we should get out fast. They'll start to wonder if they don't see signs of us."

Looks like an easy job, he'd been thinking to himself that morning as he grabbed the flyer. But he hadn't exactly expected the guy to have half a dark guild at his back. This crew hadn't been stupid enough to resort to hostages, yet, so he at least had that going for him. He'd get Lucy out of town, circle back, and at this point? He'd probably end up using the bastard to vent his frustrations, if he could drag him away from civilians. He'd earned that by starting this mess. A bit of static flickered at the collar of his coat as he turned to head back for the entrance and he blinked.

"...oh. Sorry if I shocked you, earlier, too." He knew he had, he'd felt the shift, but sometimes people got weird about it if he outright said it. Probably didn't like being read that easily. "Harder to keep a handle on it if I'm focused on somethin' else." Or angry, or stressed, or a bit of all three.

He paused at the end of the alley, leaning just slightly out of its cover to glance at the nearby shops, just in case, then made a gesture for her to follow, heading back the way they'd come from.

[arch-whatscanon]

@hatchetnews : [ CLEAN ]:     the sender gently and carefully begins to bathe the blood/soot/ash/dirt from the receiver’s skin during a moment of calm.

in less than three days, hatchetfield had been completely upended and shut off from the rest of the world. she had heard a rumor about the homeless guy going fucking rapid downtown on barry swift, who a couple of civilians had been able to get to safety while the hatchetfield police department had put the crazed lunatic down. no one had put much thought to it when it was over, not until the next day when barry was stumbling in for his daily coffee. literally stumbling. and emma had been there at the counter, already scribbling his complicated order onto a cup even though she expected the man to deliver it as always.

i got you - grande caramel frappe but in a venti cup with ... ten pumps of hazelnut, three? three shots of espresso. no caramel drizzle. and whip on top?

there was a low groaning noise in response as barry kept his head low. it caused emma's brow to furrow.

hey... you doing okay?

before she could fully get the last word out, barry had suddenly come to life, the whites of his eyes yellowed with thick, pulsating streaks of red. his skin was so translucent that she could make out various veins and arteries. he snarled like a wild animal and pounced across the counter, and she stumbled back in response. thankfully, carson, nora, and a few others were quick to come help peel the rabid man off of emma while zoey stood there filming it all.

this is going to go viral! what the fuck?!

it was not long after that mayor lauter instated a complete lockdown due to multiple incidences across the island. all businesses were shut down and everyone was sent to the streets to try to make it home while those who were already home at the time of lockdown were trying to evacuate. the island was gridlocked, and clivesdale had shut down the bridge to keep whatever was happening in hatchetfield from crossing the water to the mainland. the emergency alert on emma's car radio caused her stomach to sink. this was bad, this was really bad.

she sat in traffic for over an hour, trying again and again to call ted. calls had stopped coming through. they had truly shut hatchetfield off from the rest of the world. she heard some ruckus a few cars ahead of her and looked up, squinting to find that a pack of turned creatures were trying to break into the car in front of her. her stomach sunk. she was going to die if she stayed out here. so, she got out of her car and ducked beside it, sneaking her way down the highway before she made a mad dash for the witchwood forest and hers and ted's farmhouse.

when she got home, ted and ziggs were thankfully already accounted for and waiting for her. her head was throbbing and swimming from hitting it on the tile floor back at work hours ago, and the gauze carson had wrapped around her arm was staining red from the wound reopening. she had gotten it when she had fallen back and hit one of the shelves - not from a bite, thank god. but she was sweaty and the dust from the long gravel driveway was caking to her skin. her feet were on fire in black flats that weren't supportive enough for a cross-town run. but she had ted and ziggs and that was worth it.

they helped her inside, and ted was quick to fuss over her. she watched him clean and redress the bandage on her forearm while she relayed the story of what happened with barry swift. then, he was peeling off her flats, and she winced at the blisters that were suddenly exposed to the fresh air. painful, angry red blisters along both achilles heels, the tops of her feet, and some of her toes.

" e - easy, " she pleaded, her tired expression pinched for a second before she took a deep breath and started to relax. " we . . . we have to get off this island, t. and i would never resort to this until it was a desperate measure . . . but do you think linda monroe is still here and can get all of us on a boat? "

[dear-mrs-otome]

Dear Mrs. Ricc — Otome, I mean ~ Your description of sexy team story Silvio’s bit made me unable to breathe 😳 How can this asshole (lovingly) get anymore attractive????? If you could, would you please share more detailed summary? *Collecting all Silvio crumbs as a non-jp speaker 😭*

Sure, Nonny! Here's the whole story, irreverently rendered and nominally accurate.

------

After the ruckus about Day of the Beloved, Emma’s outside in the gardens where it suddenly begins POURING rain - sunny blue sky obliterated in an instant. She’s chatting with Luke, whom she ran into along the way, and he’s commiserating about the crappy weather before he suggests they try and find shelter somewhere nearby rather than try and make it all the way back to the castle in this deluge. 

He takes his coat off and puts it over Emma to at least shield her a little from the rain, and he steers them towards the gazebo nearest to eke out some meager shelter - cheerfully brushing off her protests that he’ll get wet without his coat. She thanks him for the gesture, and thinks how considerate of him it is.

When they hustle to the gazebo though, they find some people already inside - Nokto and Silvio, who also ducked in to take shelter from the rain. Nokto’s got his jacket off, wringing water from it, and Silvio’s bitching about Nokto getting them caught out here even as Nokto’s sniping back that it was Silvio who was moaning about hating being inside the castle.

They’re both soaked to the bone as Emma points out (putting on her best ‘noble lady’ impression to keep up her story in front of Silvio) and Nokto’s just grinning that she and Luke are just as bad off as they are, especially Luke. Silvio seem impressed that Luke’s not just a tall guy, he works out a lot too.

Emma’s gotta admit to herself as she looks that Luke’s plastered wet clothing leaves little to the imagination, and it’s clearly true.

Luke turns it back around on Silvio with a grin though, and says him too - he might appear svelte but he’s got a lot of muscle. Silvio scoffs like, obvs…what’s a guy who sails on the regular gonna do with a scrawny body?? Emma can definitely see from his wet shirt that he’s got some niiiice proportions too.

Silvio then smirks that Nokto’s not exactly rippling with muscle, but Nokto’s nonplussed - he agrees he’s no beefcake but he DOES train still. Emma’s professional ‘wet shirt assessment’? Thin, but taut.

Then she mentally slaps herself like NO BAD BRAIN what are we thinking about right now?! It’s a bit overwhelming, manflesh on display plus the scent of the rain and cedar and everything else - they’re all three pretty damn sexy and she’s having a hard time looking (or not looking) at them, frankly.

They’re interrupted by someone’s voice, all pitched falsetto like a bad impression of her own. “Nokto and Luke and Silvio are all dressed so shamelessly, it’s hard to take my eyes off of them!” With a bad feeling, she turns to see Jin and Clavis coming into the gazebo too, all grins.

She’s sputtering that that’s NOT what she was thinking, but Clavis just laughs and tells her not to be shy, she’s got the creme de la creme of sexy princes all gathered in one spot here. Jin’s doing fake-Emma voice as he says, “Jin and Clavis are also soooo sexy!”

She’s begging Jin to please cut it out with the fake high voice, but he says he’s just speaking for her heart - and now CLAVIS goes on again all ‘Staaahhhp it’s so embarrassing to say that aloud - but also Jin aren’t you gonna take your clothes off??’ (please i can’t with these two I was laughing so hard here)

Jin of course just says, it can’t be helped if she wants he’ll just have to show off his male pride here too, and Emma’s thinking KDLFJSKDL WHAT IS WITH THESE PEOPLE as Jin seizes the slightest encouragement from Clavis’ fake-Emma urging to whip off his wet vest - gotta undo a button or two too, for good measure, to Emma’s dismay.

She’s having a REAL hard time finding somewhere safe to look right now - even looking at Clavis isn’t innocent, given the beguiling vision he makes with his wet clothes and his hair dripping with rain. Jin’s got that hard body, well-trained like Luke, but Clavis’ clothes are so well-tailored they make the most of every line of his body, even when NOT wet. Slender but taut, much like Nokto. (Clearly no flabby slackers in the bunch here lollll)

She’s gotta mentally slap herself a second time now too, that her mind’s been wandering in Gutterville, but Clavis immediately picks up on her bright red face and teases her about being overwhelmed by his abundant hawtness - which she quickly tells him he’s just imagining.

Jin wonders if it’s HIS forbidden charms then that have her all aflutter, and Nokto’s giving her a hard time about being a dirty girl seeing them all wet and getting hot and bothered by it. Poor Emma’s just flailing that that’s NOT IT!

It’s Luke that steps in and tells them to lay off pestering her, and she’s thinking gratefully how Luke’s the only one here on her side as she scoots closer to him - away from the dangerous other princes. Secure in the knowledge that he’d protect her no matter what. 

Silvio scoffs that they’re all really stupid - and she’s surprised to think that Silvio of all people might be an ally.

Only for him to ruin that idea a half second later when he declares confidently that not a one of them can hold a candle to HIS sexiness.

Yeah, no, she thinks. He's totally on the same side as Jin and Clavis.

He proudly proclaims that he's the reason her face is all red, and Clavis is like ohhh? A challenger appears eh? You seem pretty sure you can beat me, Silvio.

Silvio says definitely, no way he's gonna lose to Clavis' lack of appeal. Jin counters that everybody knows the princes of Rhodolite are famous for being hotties, nobody can argue that.

Nokto' just sorta rolling his eyes over all this posturing - he's clearly the sexiest. Clavis says if he's gonna claim that, does that mean he's gonna take part in this little competition?

Nokto declines, and he's trying to make a break for it but Clavis stops him with a hand on his shoulder - and Jin does the same to Luke, saying of COURSE Luke is going to do his country proud right??

Luke relents a little, if Jin says so, and Emma's thinking noooooo they got to Luke too 😭 Clavis declares that they'll award the title of Sexy Prince to whichever of them can make Emma blush the most…much to her chagrin.

She's steeling herself to not let even a hint of anything show on her face, as Clavis lays out the rules - no getting handsy, that's not gentlemanly at all, but anything else is fair game to try and charm Emma.

No THANK YOU, she tries to say, but she's totally overridden by Silvio stepping up to go first since he's got nothing better to entertain himself with. Emma, for her part, can't believe they're going through with this idiotic game.

Silvio suddenly starts in with a, hey woman. Look at me.

She was trying to avoid doing so but he reaches out and takes her chin, turning her gaze to meet his. Maybe because of the rain making his hair wet, his already handsome face looks even more alluring despite the haughty cast of it. She can practically hear him saying 'I'm the sexiest' all confidently.

But she's too annoyed at the thought of just admitting that aloud all honestly, so she turns her gaze away defiantly…a mistake though because now she's stuck peeping down at his body in the wet shirt. He really does have amazing muscles, now that she's up close enough to see well, and she's trying to wrap her head around how even a prince needs a body like that to go out to sea.

Looking to get back at him a little for his bullying, she reaches out and pokes one of those drenched pecs - only for Silvio to yeet himself away from her, red as a tomato as he's spluttering for her to knock that off.

Nokto's laughing his ass off that it's Silvio who turned red, not Emma. Clavis thinks this is hilarious too, pointing out that Emma has the upper hand here.

She kind of sheepishly apologizes to Silvio, surprised by how surprised HE seemed. But Silvio, still blushing, is cursing and says he's gonna call her a shameless hussy from now on.

You touched me first! she counters indignantly, but he doesn't wanna hear it - insists that it's okay for him to do so but not her.

She's fuming over what a tyrant he is when Jin cuts off their bickering before it can devolve into another of their never-ending quarrel, proclaiming it his turn to show off the eldest's charms. 

She takes a step back as she gets a wall o' tiddies in her face, and on a grin Jin says she's free to touch his irresistible body allll she wants. He'll even take his shirt off -

Emma cuts him off hastily, assuring him it's fine just the way it is! 

His heaving bosom of generous mantiddies is eyecatching, exuding a different sort of sexy from Silvio's. His poor soaked shirt fighting a losing battle to keep them contained. It's almost a bit too much though, and aloud she points out to Jin that he's gonna pop some buttons with just the slightest flex.

Luke and Clavis kinda snorting at that, and Nokto point out to wouldn't be the first time he's done something like that. Unrepentant Jin says ya, he just has some buxom maid fix it for him then - shirts don't stand a chance against his overwhelming level of sexy.

Silvio points that's just sheer beef, don't mistake it for attractiveness - and look at Emma's face, she doesn't exactly seem like she's into it.

Clavis laughs that they've got a tough audience here, but he's ready to avenge his elder brother's death. He moves Jin aside and steps up - closer than anyone else so far, despite his demeanor being the most gentlemanly. He rakes his wet hair back, giving her the smolder, and she can't deny she's affected at least a teensy bit. Clavis always has the bedroom eyes, so up close like this they're even more overpowered.

Maybe because she knows it’s all hollow though it’s got no real pull on her, and as Clavis prompts her for her opinion on his superior appeal, asking whether she’s intoxicated by him…she gives him a pretty noncommittal answer. And it’s crickets as the silence stretches on (Emma clearly feeling nada) until Clavis is just….Well? Nothing?

She asks what else there is to say or do (you can practically hear the deflating ego from here LMAO poor Clavis, we just witnessed a murder) and frankly, he’s too close so please step back.

Nokto bursts out laughing as he pushes the dumbfounded Clavis out of the way, and he grins that Emma’s a tougher nut to crack than he’d thought. Luke theorizes that she’s just too used to Clavis’ MO, as Jin tries to cheer him up and tells Clavis that HE’S proud of Clavis’ sexiness.

Silvio points out that Jin’s not actually comforting him at all…and Emma does feel a little bad for Clavis, who seems to still be frozen in disbelief.

If both brothers 1 and 2 have crashed and burned, Nokto says, then it’s up to him and Luke to defend Rhodolite’s honor. Luke says he doesn’t think he’s got any sex appeal, he’s been sitting this out from the very start…but Nokto proclaims he doesn’t have any doubts about HIS because it all comes down to pleasing a lady properly AKA in bed.

He’s throwing Emma a come hither glance, making a sexy show out of wiping away the raindrop sliding down his cheek. She’s gotta admit to herself that just like the others, Nokto has his own brand of je ne sais quoi. Everything his says and does manages to come across as an innuendo or vaguely lewd. Silvio’s got that sexiness of a man of the sea, Jin has that raw unbridled masculinity, Clavis has the enigmatic appeal of a mystery that’s hard to define….but Nokto has the manwhore ladykiller down pat. 

Nokto’s confident smirk falters a bit as she just stares back at him though, and he pouts that she’s starting to make looking at him with disdain a habit of hers. She agrees that she looks at him pretty icily, but Nokto (trying to make lemons outta lemonade, gotta give him props for optimism) he tries to turn this into a positive - that means she feels something right?? She wouldn’t bother leveling a cold look at someone she really cared NOTHING about, right? She’s desperately trying not to give in to her feelings and fall for him, clearly.

Clavis, Luke, and Jin all in perfect unison call this out as the bullshit excuse making that it is - and Emma thinks that she’s gotta agree. Nokto’s frowning over how hard everyone’s being on him.

Silvio’s laughing like, sucks to be you man - and then he calls out to Luke as the big slab of beef. Is he really not gonna do anything either? Luke seems surprised, and Clavis chips in to say that if they’ve all been wounded Luke should step up and take the blow to his ego too.

Luke says there’s no honor in THAT, this is crazy…but Emma speaks up then and leaves everyone dumbstruck when she says that she thinks Luke’s already very sexy just as he is. Luke’s like, really? And she says ya - giving him the once over, her eyes snagged on the water droplets running down his pecs. When put with his laid-back attitude, there’s a certain something she finds very attractive just looking at him. It’s sexy because it is so effortless.

Clavis, frowning, says wait - isn’t Emma being suspiciously nice to Luke? Jin says he’s clearly getting different treatment compared to the rest of them, and Nokto agrees she’s treating them like pests by contrast. 

She protests that she didn’t mean to do that…and Silvio states that it’s pointless to care anyways, even if she did it’s not like Luke really charmed her to the point of winning anyways. Luke asks if that means this silly battle is over - clearly there’s no ‘Sexy Prince’ to be crowned here.

Right about then, Emma lets out a sneeze, freezing now that Luke’s jacket has gotten sodden and water has soaked through it, getting her clothes wet and chilling her now. She takes the jacket off only to find that her dress is now as wet, if not WETTER, than the princes now. Apologetic, turns to Luke,  saying how sorry she is that his jacket is all wet now…but he’s only gaping at her in shock, for some reason. 

Bemused, she offers to wash it and give it back…her words trailing off awkwardly as she realizes ALL of the princes are gawking at her, wide-eyed. Until she finally asks them, what??? They’re all staring, and it’s Nokto who breaks the stunned silence to comment on how she’s wearing a different outfit than usual. She agrees, she’d changed into something a little lighter so she didn’t get hot going on her walk around the castle, just before it had started raining. She’s wearing a simpler dress than usual, a little white lace number.

And then slowly it sinks in to her.

White dress. Rain.

With a sinking feeling, she looks down at herself and sees that her dress is both plastered to her every curve AND because it’s white, is practically see through now - showing off her skin and underwear beneath. 

With a shriek of horror, she dives behind Luke, the biggest of them all, trying to use his body as cover to hide behind. Luke doesn’t hesitate to hold his arms out and try to block as much of her from the view of the other princes as possible, assuring her it’s okay they only saw a little bit. 

Clavis, soberly, apologizes. He says it was their folly to think they could claim the title of Sexy Prince, and Jin has to agree with chagrin - there’s no way this level of sexiness can be beat. Silvio, back to beet red, is telling her to just put a jacket on for the time being, shameless hussy that she is.

Congratulations, Nokto tells her, she’s won the championship. He wonders aloud what the winner gets then, and Clavis suggests they give Emma the title of ‘Sexy Princess’.

She sputters a THANKS BUT NO THANKS…and then, at the height of her misery, the rain suddenly stops and the sun peeks out again. As if the clouds had never existed at all. Jin jokes that her sexiness drove the very clouds away, and Clavis has to agree that she’s on another level entirely. Silvio grumbles over the time spent on all this nonsense, and Nokto suggests they all head back to the castle finally. 

It was beyond embarrassing, being gifted a title like ‘Sexy Princess’...buuuut she can’t in the end say that it was a bad thing, taking such lively shelter from the rain. 

[voiceless-terror]

I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child’ of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[seacottons]

—ateez as boyfriends [ domestic au ]

notes: swearing. suggestive dialogue. fluff. i blame a certain someone for this, not gonna say who. @kireiwoo

— hongjoong

very caring and attentive towards you

so much so, that even his friends have complained how it isn't fair he doesn't scold you like the way he does to them

he enjoys many activities with you, such as

helping him dye his hair an ungodly color every other month

he'll insist you try experimenting with your own tresses

but you only have the courage to dye the very ends of your strands

"i don't think i can pull off that color as well as you do," you'd say.

"that's a load of bull. you'll suit every hair color."

you'll just roll your eyes playfully at his biased behavior.

other activities include getting tiny matching tattoos together.

the tiny flower and butterfly on your wrists was most likely your favorite due to its simplicity in design and the meaning behind it as well.

spontaneous dates are his favorite.

behind closed doors, he loves to constantly shower you with pecks and smooches.

often gets teased by his friends from how whipped he is for you.

randomly books vacations for you two to relax and unwind every so often.

although he enjoys it, he is a big, tired baby when it comes to traveling

always wanting to lean his head against your shoulder

or cuddling you close for warmth due to the airport's air conditioners blasting frigid air.

has written many songs about you

and when he's finally ready, he'll not only ask you to listen to them, but to also spend the rest of your life with him and share his last name as well.

— seonghwa

constant pet names

"darling."

"the sun to my stars."

"the moon to my sun."

"love of my life."

you like to call him mars, mostly.

but he revels when you call him 'twinkle eyes' for some reason.

has a habit of pulling you into his lap.

you'll subconsciously play with the strands of his hair as he does so, him being too distracted bickering with his friends to realize sometimes.

will always give you pleading looks whenever wooyoung or san tease him.

sometimes, you walk in to find wooyoung settling onto your boyfriend's back while he greedily devours the bowl of popcorn entirely by himself.

or other times when both wooyoung and san constrict his limbs with their arms whenever you're near.

"y/n can't save you now, so cut the whining."

you'll only sigh and shake your head in amusement.

"what are you guys doing to my poor boyfriend?"

"he changed the movie we were watching without our permission!"

"because i have no damn clue what's going on, and harry potter is too confusing!"

coffee dates.

loves to sleep with you tucked against his chest.

always has an arm draped around your frame.

butterfly kisses on your neck.

soft touches against the small of your back and waist.

his favorite pastime with you would be stargazing.

"baby, look. it's me, mars-io," he'd say whilst pointing up to the large, bright star in the night sky.

when it's too cloudy outside, or when the weather isn't forgiving, he'll turn on the indoor star projector he bought so the two of you can stargaze in the comfort of your own bed.

— yunho

is the epitome of romantic.

is constantly smothering you in love and affection.

always has heart eyes and admiration in his eyes at whatever small task you do or say.

rant about an ancient dynasty?

heart eyes.

bombard him with useless information about a certain abandoned island.

heart eyes.

gush about the new cute bakery that recently opened up?

heart eyes.

if you had a money jar for every time he says 'i love you', you'd have enough money to buy a plane ticket or two.

always willing to drop everything to help you with whatever it is you need.

will wake up in the middle of the night when you text him to ask if he's awake or not.

willingly stays up to keep you company.

but sometimes, when he's too tired, he'll knock out accidentally and profusely apologize to you in the morning.

very supportive of your life choices.

hates seeing you cry because it makes him want to bawl his eyes out as well.

his hugs are bone-crushing.

but he is a gentle giant nonetheless.

likes to attempt to bake pastries with you.

half of the time, the goods either turn out undercooked or burnt.

"they have love in them, that's all that matters."

will always insist that you can rant to him about anything and everything.

you've never felt so valued in your life before meeting him.

is the most understanding human being you've ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

"i wish we were vampires," he says one day.

you give him an amused look, lips outstretched into a smile, "why, silly?"

"so we can spend an eternity together."

— yeosang

his heart flutters when you notice the smallest things he does.

it makes him feel appreciated and acknowledged.

like when he changes up his hairstyle or earrings.

or when he wears a new sweater.

a big, big softie when it comes to you.

can and will want to spend all day in your arms on his days off.

quick witted and has a knack for noticing the tiniest detail.

very shy and awkward at first.

but when he gets more comfortable as time passes on, you won't be safe from his snarky little comments anymore.

will constantly bring up the thing you said or did months ago to prove a point.

"oh, you like this flavor? three months ago you told me it tasted like vomit."

"remember that time you woke up in a rush to get to work thinking you were late, only for me to drag you back inside because it was three in the fucking morning?"

you stop mid-chew and peer up from your plate of rice.

"your point, yeosang?"

"oh, nothing this time. i just wanted to tease you."

is the type to have a mid-life crisis when you can't decide on a restaurant.

"but i don't want to eat at the chicken place again," you'll whine.

"it's been thirty minutes, and you still haven't decided what you want!"

"you're rushing me!"

"y/n! just pick!"

loves to cuddle with you, especially in the colder months.

wraps a blanket around your frame and tugs you in closer against his chest.

pretends not to understand your jokes just to spite and tease you.

loves when you cling onto him.

his favorite pastime with you would be just walking around together at night and trying out different types of street food.

or even visiting any of the local beaches for a relaxing walk together.

— san

persistently keen about whenever you feel upset or down.

he reads you better than any open book.

sometimes, it scares you, but you appreciate how he's always so eagle-eyed about your behavior.

loves to hug your head.

you allow wooyoung to crash some of your dates with san sometimes.

other times, san will whine and tell him to go find his own date.

"if y/n accepted you as a boyfriend, then you should've disclosed that i'm part of the deal as well. buy one get one free."

"as what exactly?"

"the hot, clingy best friend."

will take numerous duck-faced selfies of himself because you think they're cute.

often times, he'll ask you to mirror his expression, only for him to press his lips against yours a second before his phone snaps the picture.

likes when you kiss his dimple.

"y/n! it looks like a crater from the amount of times you've kissed it."

he likes to tease you.

a lot.

touchy.

very touchy.

always has an arm around you.

rests his chin against your shoulders.

playfully smacks your rear when you're sassy with him.

or leans in to hold your jaw whilst whispering teasing words into your ear that has you becoming docile and bothered in mere seconds.

has you wrapped around his finger as much as you have him wrapped around your own.

likes to have weekly picnics with you at the park and admires all the dogs running about.

"i should bring byeol next week. maybe she'll like to play fetch too."

"i don't think that's a good idea.."

you often find him fast asleep holding onto a plushie for dear life whenever you're away.

you'll pull it away from his arms, causing him to stir awake groggily.

he'll stare in confusion as you throw the plushie aside, before pulling you in tighter as you wriggle into his arms.

"you're softer than shiber," he'll mumble sleepily against the crown of your head.

— mingi

mingi is sometimes self-conscious around the public eye and others, but when it comes to you, those layers of fear and insecurity get stripped away instantly.

doesn't mind being vulnerable with you.

he craves affection, adores it even, but is insecure about not being able to return it well enough for his liking.

likes when you give him attention.

easily gets jealous when someone else grabs your interest.

reassuring him 24/7.

"yes, mingi. you're the love of my life."

kissing his pouting lips for good measure.

the smallest of gestures has him a blushing mess.

even holding hands in public.

when he's not being a sentimental sap, he'll like teasing you lovingly.

"wow, you have this many photos of me in your phone?"

you'll scrutinize him in confusion.

"are you that obsessed with me, y/n?"

"mingi! you told me to take half of those photos of you!"

"oh, right. i forgot."

a silence weighs down onto the two of you.

"but would you have taken them if i never asked you to?"

constantly laughs about the things you say, although you don't think you're that funny.

always seeks your approval subconsciously.

will always shield you from the rain, playfully yelling at the droplets sometimes.

"you can't make y/n wet! only i can!"

"mingi! we are in public!"

wanted to go strawberry picking because he saw a celebrity try it out on instagram live.

accidentally steps on many berries though.

"it's okay, they'll just make another plant. i did them a favor."

brags about you like no tomorrow.

even for the tiniest, minuscule thing.

"oh, i've already tried the brand of ice cream. y/n always buys that for me."

"i don't need to pay all this money for a measly slice of cake. y/n's cakes are much better."

"no, wooyoung. i'm not jealous of your new shoes." he'll lightly pinch the boy's side, "y/n and i have already bought ourselves matching pairs."

"you two are so fucking cheesy, it hurts."

when he's not bragging about you, he's boasting about himself.

but if that's what helps him raise his confidence levels up, you'll gladly sit down hours on end listening to how he has more 'swag' and 'charisma' than all of his older friends combined.

— wooyoung

teases you like his life depends on it.

says you can't get enough of him, when in reality it's the other way around.

but you let him believe whatever he wants.

but deep down he just really gets satisfied with himself if he raises your mood and makes you smile.

especially when you're not having a great day.

uses way too many emojis when texting you.

"wooyoung, why am i saved as as 'clingy bug' on your contacts?"

he'll squawk indignantly and laugh awkwardly for a second.

"who told you this lie!?"

"seonghwa?"

always wants to show off your love in front of his friends.

"no, i don't want my early birthday gift now. wait until the others show up, and do it front of them."

"but why?"

"so everyone can see how much you love me. can you also cry for good measure?"

"absolutely not."

he enjoys the dates you have in his apartment the most.

the ones where he cooks for you and asks for your help, only for him to pester you about over-seasoning or undersalting something.

"okay, fine! we'll just order take out if it tastes that bad," you pout, flinging a small piece of onion on his face.

his head instantly snaps back to eye you judgingly, fist gripping the poor spatula.

"over my dead body."

"so, y/n. how does my plating look?"

"it's beautiful, wooyoung. you've outdone y-"

"what else is beautiful?" he demands, face leaning over the table to give you a knowing grin.

you shove a piece of meat and rice into his mouth, shrugging nonchalantly.

"me."

he deflates at your answer, spluttering pieces of rice onto your face.

"jung wooyoung, you slob!"

— jongho

is the type of boyfriend to stop you in the middle of the road to tie your shoe for you.

very charming and goofy in his own way.

takes pride in himself and his abilities to cater to your every whim and need.

even when you don't ask for his help.

aggressively opens jars for you when you struggle to pry them open.

"no one messes with my y/n."

"you're fussing at a jar of pickled radish, baby."

the type to cling close to you in public in fear of any of the bicyclists or pedestrians bumping into you and harming you in any way.

sometimes acts like you're made of glass.

while it's endearing occasionally, it is a bit suffocating at other times.

doesn't believe you when you say you're tough and don't need protection.

very selfless and willing to help you with anything you need.

never one to shy away from social gatherings with his friends, always pulling you along with him despite you being shy and clingy most of the night.

also a big tease.

when you help him hold down his legs for sit ups, he asks for a smooch.

pulls away from you when you try to kiss him.

and will laugh at your pouting face as he urges you to try once more.

"stop moving, i just want to kiss you!"

after numerous tries, he finally allows you ( you truly think you over-powered him though ) to kiss his cheeks or lips.

he then proceeds to squawk loudly in retaliation and playful disgust.

although he loves teasing you, when the game is flipped the other way, he'll be a shy mess of embarrassment.

"i don't mumble your name in my sleep."

"you always do, silly."

tucked underneath his macho exterior, you know he's prone to criticism and takes it to heart much more than he likes to show and admit.

so, whenever you get the chance, you always fulfill his need to be appreciated, loved, and taken care of.

is utterly and extremely protective of you.

"who just whistled at you?" he grumbles, "i'll break their jaw like an apple, you know i will."

[storiesforallfandoms]

finishing ~ rook

word count: 1544

request?: yes!

atjafshelby “Hey love, I was wondering if you could do a Rook smut where y’all are like going at it hardcore😂 and Colson walks in and is kinda stunned but Rook doesn’t care because he’s so close and so are you so he just keeps pounding into you? And Colsons like wtffff you kinky bastards😂 if not it’s totally fine, there’s just like no Rook imagines on here, thanks love, and no rush!!❤️❤️”

description: very little could ever bring rook out of the moment during sex, not even his best friend walking in on him and his girl

pairing: rook x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

Rook was dying to just rip your clothes off the entire night. You were all dressed up in a beautiful gown that Colson’s stylist, Ash, had picked out for you, to join the guys on the red carpet for an award show. It wasn’t a revealing dress or anything, but you just looked so beautiful that all Rook wanted to do was sneak away to the nearest private room at the afterparty and fuck you till you couldn’t walk anymore.

Unfortunately for him, every time he tried someone else would try to come talk to one of you. The one time he did manage to pull you away from the crowd, someone had caught you two looking for a closet or something and you had to lie and say you were looking for the bathroom.

As the night began to calm down, Rook saw his opportunity. Most of the people attending were either gone home, or so drunk they weren’t really paying attention to much. Rook took this opportunity to find you and try again for that quickie.

“Hey babe,” he said, grabbing your attention from the person you were talking to. “Is it okay if I steal you away for a second?”

Your conversation mate was already moving on to someone else, so you just shrugged in response. Rook took your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you away from the main room of the party. Knowing exactly what was going to happen, you felt your heart racing with excitement.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to find an empty bathroom. Before even opening the door, Rook attached his lips to yours and kissed you deeply. One hand was wrapped around the doorknob while the other was gripping your ass. You gasped against his lips as he gave your ass a squeeze and then a slight smack, which gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The two of you basically fell into the bathroom as Rook opened it. He pushed you against the door and started kissing your neck while trailing his hands up your dress.

“God, I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he breathed.

He began pushing your dress up around your thighs before slipping a finger under the waistline of your panties. You moaned as he began to rub your already soaking core, arching your back to try and give him more access to you.

“You’re already so wet for me baby,” he said. “Fuck, I can’t wait long.”

He spun you around to face the sink and bent you over, your arms bracing on the cool, white tile. You heard him unbuckle his pants and slide them down his legs. With your dress still pushed up, you felt Rook pull your thin panties aside and slip himself into you. You moaned with pleasure as he began to thrusting almost immediately.

You weren’t sure if you should keep quiet or not. The building was almost empty, but you knew Rook’s friends were still wandering around out there. There was a chance one of them could go looking for Rook and walk in on the two of you, but there was also a higher chance that they’d just send Rook a text to let him known they had left.

Rook was much less concerned about the volume. He was already thrusting ruthlessly into you, the sound of your skin loudly colliding and his grunts and groans filling the room. You had tried to hold them in, but it was no use. You were practically a moaning, screaming mess within moments.

When your eyes weren’t rolling back in pleasure, you caught glimpses of Rook in the bathroom window. His bottom lip and pulled between his teeth, and his sole attention was on watching himself slide in and out of you. He was so focused, so lost in the feeling of your warm, wet walls around him. It was so hot that you were nearly cumming just at the sight of it.

Neither of you heard someone coming down the hall, or the sound of someone knocking at the door. It wasn’t until the doorknob turned and you saw the door crack open that you realized someone was in the area - and that Rook hadn’t locked the door.

Colson’s familiar messy blonde head popped into the room. You let out a shocked shriek, trying to pull away from Rook so you could pull your dress down.

Colson quickly covered his eyes. “Fuck! Don’t y’all know how to lock a fucking door?!”

You had expected Rook to stop as well, but to your shock he was still buried deep inside of you. You wanted to pull away, to try and snap him out of his lustful daze to remind him that his best friend had just caught the two of you fucking. But you couldn’t help but moan as he grabbed your throat and pulled you so your chest was against his back.

Luckily, Colson quickly ducked out of the room again when it became evident that you two weren’t going to stop. Shortly after, Rook reached down to start rubbing your clit so quickly that you were having trouble staying stood up. You felt him twitch inside of you and knew he was nearly finished. With one last thrust that left him buried deep inside of you, Rook groaned and you screamed in pleasure as you both hit your climaxes at the same time.

You were basically seeing stars. Your head was nearly spinning from the pleasure. Rook rested his head on your shoulder, softly kissing whatever skin on your neck he could reach as he finally came down from his high. You eventually had to separate as it was becoming hard to stand up.

“Did you not realize Colson walked in on us?” you asked as you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter.

“I realized,” Rook responded. “At the time I was just so in the zone I didn’t want to stop. Now that I’ve finally cleared my head, I’m very embarrassed.”

You giggled. “Me too. I’m almost afraid to go face him.”

“You think he’s told the guys about what he saw?”

You cringed. “God, I hope not. The last thing either of us needs is them teasing us for having a quickie in the bathroom.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll be gone back to the hotel already.”

You sighed, silently hoping for the best.

Rook helped you down off the counter, making sure your footing was steady before the two of you exited the bathroom. The first good sign was that Colson hadn’t lingered after your embarrassing moment. You had hoped that meant maybe he just decided to leave all together.

The party was basically over with very few stragglers left, which made you feel even more embarrassed. Now you just wished you and Rook could’ve waited long enough to go back to the hotel room to have your intimate moment.

When the two of you exited the building, you found Colson waiting by the door with a joint raised to his lips, taking a few puffs. Rook reached for it, trying to act as normal as possible after what Colson had just witnessed in the bathroom.

“The others gone?” Rook asked as he took a puff from the joint.

“Yeah, I sent them back to the hotel,” Colson responded. “Told them I’d wait for you guys so I could make sure you got back alright, too.”

“Neither one of us are that drunk man,” Rook said. “But thanks for the concern man.”

“Yeah, I wish I hadn’t been concerned now.”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment at Colson’s words. Rook merely chuckled, trying to play it off.

“Look man, I’m sorry. But have you seen my girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous.” Rook looped his arm around your waist and pulled you close for good measure. You smiled at him as he kissed your cheek.

“I can’t deny (Y/N)’s beauty, in a respectful way of course, but did you guys have to fuck in the fancy ass bathroom of this after party?” Colson question. “And did you have to keep fucking while I was still there? That shit is burned in my corneas forever now, man.”

“I was in the zone dude. Nothing was gonna break that.”

Colson let out a loud laugh, puffs of smoke billowing from his mouth as he did so. “You kinking fucking bastard!”

You hid your face in Rook’s shoulder as someone stood nearby turned to give the three of you a puzzled look. Rook chuckled as well and told Colson he was going to get a cab for the three of you. Before he walked away, he leaned in as if he were going to kiss you again, only to lower his voice to a whisper.

“Round two the moment I have you to myself in the hotel room.”

Your still aching core became wet again at his words. Knowing what the reaction would be, Rook smirked at you as he left you with Colson to go find you three a cab.

The next few minutes are going to be so painfully slow, you thought to yourself.

[fromasgardandback]

Welcome Back, Peter Mills

Peter Mills x Reader

description: You're a firefighter on truck 81 and Peter left but came back to firehouse 51.

word count: 1.4k

warning: pure fluff :)

a/n: my first Chicago Fire fic!

masterlist

Y/N’s been a firefighter at Firehouse 51 for the past five years. She was a candidate there not long after Peter Mills moved up. And from that moment on, she knew she was in trouble seeing those bright brown eyes every day. Y/N was a lot like Peter in some ways. They both loved their jobs, cooking that eases their minds, and annoying the rest of the house to no end. 

“Alright, so this prank is going to be easy,” Peter tried to keep from laughing, “All we have to do is change out the clothes from the dryer to pink clothes. Peter and Y/N both knew that Cruz was easy to mess with, and knowing him, he’d have to deal with the pink clothes until the end of shift. “He’s gonna look like a pink peep. Those Easter marshmallow bunnies.” Laughing hard, but trying to keep it hidden, they took their hiding place to the sleeping quarters, waiting until the dryer dinged. 

Right when it dinged, the both of them took off like cheetahs, cramming all the clothes into a basket and shoving the pink-colored ones in the dryer with a red sock for good measure. After your plan was done, you hid the clothes under Y/N’s bed. Her bed was against the corner and would make room to keep it hidden than in plain sight, given if anyone looked underneath them. 

Sneakily and casually, they ventured outside. “We should pick up some of these branches or rake to make it look like we weren’t in there.” Y/N looked up at Peter. “That’s a great idea.”

They took their time getting back into the house. Nonchalantly walking into the kitchen and chatting, like they haven’t just messed with Cruz.

About 20 minutes later, everyone saw Cruz walking in with a pink uniform. “Alright, who did this. I don’t wear red socks, so who messed with my clothes.” No one spoke up but instead laughed hysterically. “C’mon guys, this isn’t funny. If Chief Boden sees me like this, he’s gonna ring my neck.” Just as Joe finished his sentence, Boden came waltzing in. A low chuckle turned into a serious conversation. “Cruz. What happened to your clothes?” 

“Chief, I washed my clothes and now they’re pink. I don’t wear red socks and am for certain that this couldn’t have happened.” Joe started to look upset, to which Y/N ducked out unseen to place his clean clothes on his bed. 

Peter ran in looking shocked. “Now?” He said. “Yeah, now. I didn’t know Chief was goanna get involved. You and I both don’t need our asses chewed out right now.” At that moment, Joe walked in. “I knew it! You two are always up to something!” Standing in front of Peter to protect him, Y/N spoke up. “But look, there are your clothes. All clean and not pink. It was a prank, not real.” No matter what you said, it didn’t help. Taking the chance, you grabbed Peter and started running.

That nice memory was three years ago. It was a nice parting memory and added to the scrapbook that Y/N gave Peter when he left for North Carolina. He’d send her postcards and small little trinkets, with her doing the same; yet, she still missed him every day. They became best friends, but Y/N would be lying if she said she wished they could have been more. She always had a soft spot for him. Being best friends was her way of seeing what it would be like to be his. It was a dangerous game she had her pawns in; although, she took all her chances. 

“Y/N. A package came for you.” Connie set down the box on the table in front of her.

“Thank you, Connie.” Y/N took out her pocket knife and opened it carefully. “What’d you get? Herrmann sat in front of you. “I didn’t order anything. This is a surprise to me.” Y/N opened it, and to her surprise, it was a framed photo of her and Peter with a letter attached. 

“Aww. I loved this photo. I can’t believe he kept it.” Herrmann smiled at his co-worker’s reaction. “What does the letter say?” She took a minute to open it and look inside. “I hope you like your little gift. I know it’s not much. I miss you and everyone at 51. Do you and everyone else miss me?” Y/N read. She smiled wide but turned around quickly when she heard that familiar voice.

“So what’s your answer? Did you miss me?” Peter stood there with his hands in his pockets. Y/N didn’t have to think twice before running into his arms and hugging him close. Peter held her tightly hearing a faint, “I missed you so much.” It wasn’t long after their embrace that the rest of 51 joined in on their hug; similar to when he left. 

Peter sat at the long dining table telling stories of his life down in North Carolina. He told one story of his sister and this guy down the street. “So one day he walks in and she’s being flirty cause she thinks he is all that, to which he’s not.” Peter beamed with a bright smile, ready to laugh, knowing the ending. “And they’ve kept this unspoken tension and seductive thing going for like three weeks. Come to find out that the next day, he walks in with his partner.” Mouch interrupted, “A woman.” 

Peter shook his head. “A man. He’s totally gay. This whole time she’d been flirting with a gay man and didn’t even know it. And the guy was so happy to introduce her to his partner like a new friend.” Peter chuckled. “Poor girl didn’t want to get out of bed, that was until that “friend” introduced her to his brother. Now, they’re engaged.” Everyone listening awed and smiled. 

“That’s a funny story. One to share when they have kids.” Herrmann commented. 

Time went on and they shared stories of things that happened while Peter was gone. He knew that this was his home, no matter what. He talked about how he was going to miss his family deeply, but there was a piece of him missing, a hole so to speak when he left. Like he was leaving his father behind. Peter could make the trips to see his family, but the reason to become a firefighter was to be close to his dad. That was his purpose, and that purpose is what he missed. 

“You know, I couldn’t sleep for like two weeks after I left.” Y/N looked up at her best friend. “Why?” She looked up at him. “I missed you too much. I remember those nights when we would watch movies and then fall asleep on the couch.” He paused to smile, the memory brought joy to his life. They would get numerous snacks, such as popcorn, candy, drinks, pizza, and other favorites. They both would lay it all out and start the binging of their favorite movies, or on occasion television shows. Later on, they would put the rest of the food away and cuddle up on the couch. Their relationship was mirroring that of a couple, but neither of them would speak on it. They would fall asleep under the television light, a thick blanket, including Y/N, snuggled into Peter’s chest.

Y/N smiled along with him. “I remember those nights. Best sleep in the world is being next to you.” She confessed. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Peter smirked. “Cause you made me feel safe. I was at home in your arms. I was comfortable, I knew that I could always be myself.” She pondered her thoughts before continuing. “I love you, Peter. Not just as a friend, more than that. I fell in love with you the moment I met you. You’re so full of life and energy… I just-” She was cut off by Peter cupping her jawline. He kissed her with such passion and desire. The crew of 51 had bets on when they would get together. They had been waiting and when they finally saw both of them kissing on the rooftop of Molly’s, they cheered. 

“Get it, Peter!” Severide clapped. “Yeah Y/N!!!” Gabby hollered. 

She pecked his lips once more. “I love you, Y/N.” She smiled. “I love you, Peter.”

[cjsinkythoughts]

FATWS One Shot #1 - Back to the Beginning

Word Count: 1644

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Intoxicated Automobile Accident, Steve Being a Slight Puppy

Setting/Characters: Directly after Captain America: The First Avenger, New York City; Reader, Director Nicholas Fury, Captain Steven Rogers

A/N: Here it is! The first One Shot that goes along with my FATWS Series! Keep in mind; it doesn’t take place during FATWS. There are NO SPOILERS in this and there will be NO SPOILERS in any of the One Shots. I do recommend still reading the Series, though, to understand the Reader more. These are more like…prequels to the Series. And it won’t be a series. It’ll just be a collection of One Shots based on what I think is important and what you guys wanna see. I also WON’T BE DOING A TAGLIST FOR ONE SHOTS! (Only those in my All Works Taglist will be tagged!) I’ll be adding them to my FATWS Series Masterlist under a ‘One Shot’ section, so you’ll be able to find them there, and I’ll also be tagging them with #fatws series oneshots. Feel free to send in requests for what you wanna see. I’ve gotten a few already, so I’ll be writing those tomorrow. I’ll say that they’ll all be shorter like this one, but...knowing me...we’ll see.

(Also, I’m aware of the theories that SHIELD chose the woman because the resemblance to Peggy, but just ignore that for this.)

As always, not beta’d so please excuse mistakes! Be kind to yourselves and each other! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

You knew. You knew the moment his eyes raked over your form. You knew when he looked over his shoulder at the radio playing some baseball game from 1941. You had done your homework, just like you did with every mission you worked. Granted, this one was a little different, but when Fury called you in personally, you couldn’t say no. You told them your uniform was wrong. You told them the game was too close to when he went under. You told them.

So you weren’t surprised in the least when he smashed through the wall, running out of the room. You didn’t necessarily regret pushing the button; you did it because you knew your cover had been blown, not because you were threatened. But you regretted calling out Code 13, not realizing that they’d chase him out into the middle of Times Square of all places.

Before you could head outside, wanting to know what happened, Fury’s name flashed across your vibrating phone.

“Y/L/N.”

“We’re heading back.”

An eyebrow raised, showing your confusion. “That was quick.”

“He’s fine, if you’re insinuating what I think you are.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, sir.” It was a lie, of course. You wouldn’t put it past Fury to slow down the Captain anyway he could, especially if the Man Out of Time was putting up a fight. “Sir, with all due respect, I tried-”

“I know, Agent. When We get back, we’ll set up in Conference Room C. I want you to join us.”

Your eyes narrowed, free hand on your hip. “You only called me in to ease him into this whole new century thing-”

“And he’s not eased.”

“It’s not my fault, Fury. I told your guys that it was wrong-”

“I know, Agent. Introducing him to the new century obviously went less smoothly than we anticipated.”

“Ya think?”

“Conference Room-”

“C. I heard you the first time. I’ll be there. Give me a few minutes.” He hung up without any farewells, making you roll your eyes. The director had pulled you off an assignment - in the middle of it - and promised you could get back to it once you finished helping him with the Star Spangled Man problem; help Captain Rogers integrate into the new times. But it was starting to seem that Fury didn’t just mean when he woke up.

You quickly changed, switching the old fashioned uniform for the tighter SHIELD-assigned one, before heading up to the level with all the conference rooms. You understood doing this in New York instead of the HQ in DC - the captain was from New York and, as much as it changed, some things would be familiar - and you definitely understood not doing this on the Helicarrier since Rogers didn’t even know about smartphones yet. And you definitely weren’t complaining; you had an apartment here in the City that you hadn’t slept in for months now.

Glancing at the room plaques, you paused in front of ‘C’. You took a couple breaths, relaxing yourself just as you did before any mission, before opening the door and stepping in.

Fury and Rogers were sitting at the table on opposite ends, the blonde looking around warily, eyeing the few agents lining the walls. You shot Fury a look, disapproving of the firepower in the room.

“Captain. Director.” You nodded to them in greeting.

Roger’s eyes snapped towards you, recognition lighting up his features. “You-”

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Sorry about the act.”

He nodded hesitantly, watching you as you sat down a couple seats from Fury. “I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll make this quick. To help you adjust, it’s been decided to assign an agent to help you for the next few months. Agent Y/L/N, here, will take that position.”

You blinked, turning to Fury, not expecting that. “What?”

Fury ignored you, standing up and setting down a file on the table in front of you when he passed. “The file has what you need to explain to him. Start now.”

“Fury.” You snapped, eyebrows furrowing as you stared at the file. Looking back as the door opened, you scrambled to stand when you realized he was leaving. “Fury! Excuse me.” You pardoned yourself from the captain, chasing after the director without waiting for his reaction. “Nicholas!”

That got his attention, his stride pausing. He spun on his heel, an eyebrow quirked. “Agent-”

“You didn’t mention anything about months helping him. I thought you meant, at most, a week!”

He crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “You’re the first person he saw when he woke up. You’re the best option.”

“First off,” you mimicked his position, popping your hip for good measure. “Even though I was the first person he saw, I deceived him. Why would he trust me? Second, why me? I understand having me for the little show you put on. I get that. But me? Of all people? You know I don’t do personal stuff.”

Fury narrowed his eyes. “You’re on this, and that’s final. He needs to know politics and technology. Settle him into the apartment in the file.”

You gaped as he turned around and started towards the elevators at the end of the hallway. “What about-?!”

“Your mission is being taken care of!” He called over his shoulder. “Politics and technology!”

You huffed, stomping your foot, frustrated, well aware of the fact that you were throwing a mini tantrum. You worked behind the scenes, acting as someone other than yourself. You didn’t help 93 year old super soldiers settle into new houses, teach them about current politics, and explain what cell phones were.

Walking back into the conference room, you found it empty besides Rogers, who was looking through the file, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Sorry about that.” You apologized, moving around the table to plop into the seat next to him.

He gave a half hearted shrug, glancing over at you. “It’s okay. He didn’t tell you the plan. I don’t blame you for being annoyed.”

“Yeah…it’s nothing personal. I’m not annoyed at you, and it’s not because of you. It’s just-”

“You don’t do personal stuff.” At your quirked eyebrow, he tapped his ear. “I could hear you.”

You cleared your throat, feeling slightly embarrassed at being heard. “Oh. Right. Enhanced hearing. Um, so, I guess you’re already starting without me.”

The tips of his ears turned red as you gestured to the file he was scanning. He dropped it, moving it over to you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “It’s your schooling. However you wanna do this, whatever pace you want, we’ll do that. Fury just wants you to know-”

“Politics and technology.” He shot you a small smirk. “I heard that too.”

You chuckled a bit, nodding. “Right. Okay. Let’s see here. Nickie said there was an apartment they got you…”

“Page six.” He informed you as you flipped through the pages.

You hummed, looking at the small apartment, perfect size for one person, right here in Manhattan…in the same building as yours, you noted. “Of course.” You rolled your eyes. You’d basically be his babysitter, and you knew neither of you wanted that.

“What? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “This is my building.”

He blinked, looking down at the picture of the apartment. “Oh. Well, if you want I can request a change-”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just - I wish Fury told me.”

“Can-can I ask you a personal question?”

You shrugged, thumbing through the rest of the file. They basically wanted you to give him a government lesson starting with the fifties and then go over military technological advancements - a lot of Stark Industries stuff. “You might as well. We’re gonna be spending quite a bit of time together.”

“Why don’t you do personal?” You stopped your reading, tapping a finger on the table as you chewed on your cheek. “Sorry. You don’t hafta share if it’s too personal. I get it. I was never really into sharing my emotions, either.”

Turning your head to him, your lips pursed thoughtfully. His head was ducked, his blonde hair previously parted and styled was falling into his eyes, which were trained on his linked hands in his lap. His forehead was still creased, but it was more contemplative than confused as it was previously. 

“I specialize in undercover operations.” Ignoring the way he whipped his head to you, slight surprise in those blues that you were answering his question, your head dropped back to the files, trying to act nonchalantly. “Before that I grew up in foster homes. My parents died when I was little. Drunk driver. No one survived. I was…two. I think. Maybe three. I learned to keep my head down to stay out of trouble; be the kid whoever had me wanted me to be. Anyways, I’m used to playing other people. I’m not really used to being myself.”

The room was blanketed with a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, either, but it was welcomed as Rogers processed what you had just told him. His voice was quiet, almost shy, when he spoke up. “You can be yourself with me…if you want.”

You looked over at him again, your lips turning up slightly as you met his sincere gaze. “Thanks. You can be yourself with me too, Captain Rogers.”

“Let’s start with you calling me Steve, Agent Y/L/N.”

Your features broke into a bigger grin as you nodded, accepting his terms. “Alright, Steve. I don’t really have a preference. Just don’t call me Agent. I get flashbacks to every conversation with Fury.”

Steve laughed and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way his eyes shut, his nose scrunching up. “Alright.” He agreed with a beam. “I think I can avoid that, honey.”

All Works Taglist:

@happygoreading​

@bibliophilewednesday​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Nighter

Previous Parts: Extracurricular Teacher’s Pet

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness; name calling;

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Your academic worries are compounded by your personal dilemma.

Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I caved and we get a third part.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Halfway through the lesson, you excused yourself. As Ransom waited at the front and students scoured over an excerpt of Catcher in the Rye, he sent you another jarring message. It was time. 

You stood carefully, the skirt offering little coverage and knowing you were about to be even more exposed. You ducked down as you walked along the front row and disappeared through the door.

You went to the restroom and locked yourself in a stall. Your phone vibed again, still clutched tightly in your hand. ‘Show me.’ He demanded and even in font, the words made you shudder.

You sighed and held your phone out at an angle with one hand as you opened the camera. You directed the lense to your skirt and tugged it up until your purple panties were exposed. You shimmied as you slid them down on either side with your fingers and let them fall past the top of your stockings. You ended the recording and hit send before collecting your crumpled underwear.

You folded them and shoved them up your sleeve and locked your phone. You returned to the class, unnoticed, and sat in your seat with your head down. You bent back the cover of the book and tried to focus on the passage. You could hear Ransom as he rocked in the old office chair.

You peeked up at him as he held his phone up. His face was blank as he watched the screen. His finger tapped the phone and he nodded. He lowered his cell and his eye caught yours before you could shy away. He winked and cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with a brief summary. Who wants to begin?” He stood and approached the podium again. “Go ahead.”

You blinked and realised he was pointing at you. You let out a prolonged uh and shuffled your book dumbly.

“Um, in this chapter, uh, Holden tells us about his neighbour, Jane, and um,” you squirmed a Ransom stared at you and you felt the attention of every other student in the lecture hall, “As the chapter progresses we learn that Holden has shared with her things, like Allie’s baseball glove, that he hasn’t with anyone else and in turn, eh, erm, Jane’s character disassembles and both Holden and the reader wonder after her alcoholic stepfather and even if he has… a-abused her. Holden prefers to think of her, however, as innocent, and accepts a not very convincing denial. Really, he hears what he wants to and goes on without a single--” You stopped as you began to ramble. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ransom appeared amused and leaned on the podium. “Okay. Any other interpretations?”

He looked around and you deflated in your chair. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be talking about Jane and her vile stepfather, and you didn’t want your professor to keep looking between your legs. But just like Holden, Ransom couldn’t see anything but his own male ego. Anyone else was just a stepping stone in his grand American narrative.

🖊️

When class ended, you were as eager as any other to be gone. The two-hour block at seven in the evening was hardly anyone’s ideal, even if it was a weeknight. You slid your notebook away and the used edition of Salinger. You dropped the pens into the side pocket of your worn messenger bag and stood to watch your peers flood out of the classroom.

You wanted badly to be on your way and for an instant, you had a glimmer of hope that you might. But then you heard the deep breath and your name was called from behind you. 

“Just a minute,” he said with all pretense of deceiving any stragglers, “You seem to be missing a page from your assignment.”

You turned slowly and left your bag in the seat. You neared him and your nostrils flared as your gaze met his. It wasn’t even your paper he held. You swallowed back your reticence and pretended to look at the essay. 

“Oh, sorry.” You said as he peered over your shoulder.

“Go on,” he lowered his voice as the upper doors finally closed with a heavy clank. 

You cringed and reached up your sleeve and pulled out your panties. You let them fall onto the folder and he poked his fingers through the fabric and stretched them out. He hummed and rubbed the cotton between his fingers.

“You got anything sexier?” He snatched them up and shoved them in his pocket. “I thought you college girls were funner than that.”

You glared at him and crossed your eyes. “Right, is that everything?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “Sweetie, I don’t like that tone.” 

You huffed and rolled your eyes. He shuffled away his papers as you retreated to grab your own bag. You headed for the door as you unfolded your jacket from over your arm.

“Where are you going? I didn’t dismiss you.” He called from behind you. You turned back and stared at him.

“I have class in the morning.” You said.

“And?” He scoffed. “It’s only nine.”

You were quiet as he approached you. You wanted so badly to scream and hit him. He was a frat boy with tenure. He was as slimy and shady as every guy on campus and you had been deluded enough to think that age and title would change a spoiled brat with a silver spoon still lodged firmly in his mouth. Oh, the naive romanticism of a sophomore.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He snickered and kept on as you backed away from him. He had you against the door as he slapped his hand above your shoulders and loomed over you. He leaned in as his other hand played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Because I can.” He purred, “And because I love the look in your eyes as I’m balls deep.”

“Ew,” you slapped his chest but he didn’t flinch. He merely grabbed your arm and spun you around as he pushed the door open behind you.

“Good thing you took those panties off,” he sneered, “You won’t be needing them.”

🖊️

You spent the car ride hunched against the passenger door, wishing you were anywhere else. Ransom let the radio fill the silence as he barely seemed to recall your presence. He steered with one hand, unbothered by the tension between you. As he pulled up to his house, its tall glass windows and geometric structure thrust you into a whirlwind of deja vu.

He killed the engine and rounded as you remained in your seat. You were too numb to do anything but sit there and stare at the house. You remembered patches of that night; stumbling up the walk, Ransom carrying you up stairs, his body against yours, the disorienting pain of his intrusion.

The door opened and you nearly fell out of the car. The seatbelt kept you from your descent and you unbuckled it as Ransom grabbed your arm and dragged you out into the crisp autumn evening. Your boots tapped melodically as he led you up the paved walk and you found it hard to think straight.

“Wait, wait,” you stopped as you reached the threshold, “No, Ransom, Professor… this is… wrong. You can’t--”

“For such a quiet little bitch you sure don’t shut the fuck up,” he snarled as he unlocked the door, one hand still on your arm. Your blood froze as you thought of your bag on the floor of the car, your phone buried in the side pocket. “Come on.”

“No, please,” you wriggled in his grasp, “You can’t keep doing this to me. I’ll… I’ll tell.”

“Not if I tell first,” he said coolly and bent to sling you over his shoulder. “Now let’s give you something to tell about.”

He pushed through the door and slapped your ass as he carried you inside. You kicked and writhed over his shoulder as he strode into the front room. The lights shone as they were triggered by some unseen sensor.  

He carried you to the modern sofa with its flat cushions and low back, and dropped you onto it gruffly. You bounced and bit your tongue painfully.

“Don’t make me tear those clothes off or you won’t have anything to wear in the morning,” he warned as he kicked off his leather boots and paced along the broad windows that formed the front wall of the room. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack in the corner and turned back to you. “Well…”

You bent to unzip your boots and shoved them aside. You heard a clink and looked over your shoulder. Ransom stood behind the small bar along the far wall and plunked a glass on top.

“Seem to loosen up with a few drinks in you,” he pulled out another tumblr and a bottle of dark whiskey. “This stuffs a lot better than that toilet water they serve in the club.”

You ignored him and stood to remove your jacket. You realised that there was no way out. You kept trying to convince yourself there was but that only made it worse. You hung your coat beside his as he watched you closely and gave a measured pour.

“Here,” he slid a glass across the bar. “Drink up, sweetie.”

“I’m not thirsty,” you ignored him and walked nervously back to the sofa. Was it better to have it done with?

“I don’t care what you want now get over here and drink,” he growled. “Or I’ll force it down that pretty little throat myself.”

You blanched and slowly crossed to the bar. You took the short glass and raised it, the alcohol made your nose tingle. He watched you as he drained his own tumbler. You tossed it back in three stinging gulps and coughed as you set the glass back on the bar. He chuckled and poured again, but didn’t add any to his empty glass.

“Again.” He ordered.

“Please, I can’t--” You waved your hand as you touched your raw throat. He stared at you and his jaw twitched. You pouted and lifted the glass again. You drank with tears in your eyes and gasped as you swigged it down. “There.” You choked as you planted the tumblr on the bar top. 

He reached over as if to pour some more and grinned as he hovered the bottle over your glass. He laughed and lowered it down onto its base instead. “Good girl.” He came out from behind the bar and neared you, drawing you away with him. “But you’re not naked yet.”

He thrust you ahead of him and you stumbled to the sofa. Your wits were buzzing from the whiskey and your empty stomach rolled. You hadn’t eaten since the early afternoon, right before your second lecture. You were wholly unprepared for the alcohol and the man before you.

You reached and tugged at the bottom of your turtleneck. You pulled it up and freed your head from it with a grunt. You dropped it onto the sofa and Ransom touched your shoulder where he’d bit you days before. It was still tender and made you wince. You unbuttoned your skirt and pushed the zipper down. It fell to your ankles without much effort.

Ransom’s hands went to your chest and he fondled your tits through your plain bra. He reached around you and unhooked it easily, yanking it down your arms and flinging it away. His fingers danced along your side and you hooked your thumb under the top of your stockings.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, “Keep those on.”

You retracted your hand and he gripped your shoulders. He pushed until you sat on the sofa and he backed away slightly. His tongue poked out as he took you in and he grinned. He pulled his knit sweater over his head and threw it on the floor. He made quick work of his undershirt and revealed his muscled torso. You squeezed your legs together and stared at your knees.

“We both know those college boys are nothing compared to me, sweetie,” he teased as you heard the buckle of his belt. “It’s okay, you can have a peek.”

You didn’t say anything as you listened to him strip. When he neared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. He grabbed your chin and forced your head up. His other hand moved below your vision as he stroked himself. 

“Get up,” he demanded and you stood with a sway. The whiskey stormed inside of you.

His hand fell to your arm and he dragged you away from the sofa. He directed you towards the tall windows and you shivered as you got closer. He stopped you before the glass and brought your hands up and planted them against the window. You felt the chill through it as he grasped your hips and drew your feet back. You stared out onto the drive, the street barely visible just beyond the curve, although you could see the lights of the neighbour’s house.

“What--”

“Shhh,” he tickled your spine and groped your ass roughly. “Stay just like that, sweetie.”

He slipped his hand down and kicked your feet apart. He felt along your folds and you shivered as his warmth contrasted against the cold seeping through the glass. Bumps rose along your skin as he poked around your entrance.

“Wet, already.” He tisked, “I thought you were a good girl.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes as he reached to your clit and rubbed it with two fingers. You gasped as he teased you and drew back to shove a finger inside you. He grabbed your shoulder as your back arched and stepped closer. He pulled his hand away and prodded you with his tip again.

“Professor…” You hissed.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pushed your face against the glass as he slowly forced his tip inside of you. You groaned and turned so that your cheek rested against the cool window and he impaled you entirely. You slapped the glass and your fingers curled as he filled you.

“Ah,” you whined and he bucked so that your whole body quaked.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rocked against you as his thick breaths surrounded you. “You had me hard all night, sweetie. I could barely fucking stand straight.”

He tilted his hips into you as you were on tiptoes and your legs began to tremble beneath you. You clung to the glass, afraid you might collapse. He nuzzled your head and growled as sped up. You moaned without thinking as your walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he hummed and dropped his hand from your neck, trailing both along your chest and stomach. He hunched over you as he felt around the back of your thighs and panted into your hair. “You can play coy all you want but your cunt says it all.”

His hands stretched across your thighs and you exclaimed as he suddenly scooped you up. He bent your legs to your chest as he lifted you and your fingertips slid along the glass. He hooked his arms under your knees and opened you up as he hammered into you from below. 

He stepped closer to the window and you braced yourself against it as your reflection stared back at you. The inky dark was clouded by the glare of the light inside and revealed to you your shame. Your eyes drifted down and you saw how easily he slid in and out of you.

Your legs tensed around his arms and your breath hitched. You shut your eyes as your mouth fell open and felt your core bloom. You were close, so close, and you needed to cum. You didn’t care that it was him or that it was here; you had to.

You kept one hand on the window and snaked your other down to your cunt. You flicked circles around your clit as the sound of your flesh mingled with his. He crashed into you harder and harder and snarled into your neck.

“You fucking slut,” he rasped, “You touching yourself? Huh? You fucking like it.” He pulled your legs further apart until your hips rang with pain. “Bad girl.”

You spasmed and came with a squeak. You felt yourself dripping down his cock as the warmth leaked from you. You smacked your slick hand against the window again and bit down on your lip as he rutted into you with gristly grunts.

“Say it. You’re a bad girl.” He puffed.

“Wha--”

“Say it,” he slammed into you hard.

“I’m-- I’m a… bad… girl,” you choked out. “Oh, oh, I’m bad.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said frantically and stilled you. He sniffed and held you on him. “Get…” His voice trailed off and he lifted you from him.

He lowered you swiftly and your legs wobbled dangerously beneath you. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to your knees. He brought you close as he stroked himself desperately.

“I’m gonna cum on your tits, sweetie,” he moaned, “I’m gonna--”

He grunted and strings of cum erupted from him as he angled his dick over you. His cum spurted over your chest and shoulders, even along your chin and cheek as his body shook and his fingers sank into your neck. He twitched as he slowed his hand and sighed as he let his cock bob freely before him.

“Mmm,” he let go of you and looked down at you with a smirk, “You look amazing covered in me.” 

He ran his hands over his chest and exhaled. You tried to stand and he caught your shoulder. “Crawl.” He ordered. “Get on the sofa and wait for me, sweetie.” He ran his finger through the cum along your cheek, “I won’t be long.”

🖊️

You woke in a fog. Your thighs, your hips, your cunt all ached. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at the pristine white ceiling. You were sprawled flat on the stiff sofa, alone. Your mouth was dry and your tongue tasted of flesh and alcohol. You groaned and sat up as your head reverberated. The sky outside was a dull grey and the clock above the door read just before seven. Fuck.

Your name floated in from the doorway at the other end of the room. You hung your head and stood. You took the throw draped over the back of the chair beside the couch and covered yourself. You neared the arch and peeked inside. Ransom poured a cup of coffee from a French press.

“You’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass in gear,” he said smugly as he pushed the mug across the island.

You grumbled and crossed to the marble counter. You climbed up onto a tall stool and winced at the tenderness between your legs. The coffee smelled delicious as your stomach churned.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with me,” he taunted. “What time you done today?”

You frowned and took a boiling sip, barely noticing how the coffee seared your tongue. “Four… why?”

“Hmm, that’ll be a long day,” he said. “But not… too long.”

His cryptic words made you scowl and he left you without explanation. He returned with a pink box and his phone. He placed both on the counter. You watched him, confused, and he eased the lid off the box. Inside, was a silicon plug in hot pink. You shook your head.

“No.” You said firmly.

“It’s for your cunt, calm down,” he said.

“No,” you repeated and cradled your mug. “Ransom…”

“Professor. I think I prefer ‘professor’. It’s… proper.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He flicked his finger over his phone and it unlocked. He tapped and you leaned on your elbow. He pressed his finger against the centre of the circle that appeared and the box began to buzz as the plug vibrated. He dragged his finger around the circle and the toy intensified. You blinked.

“We’ll save that fun for class tomorrow night,” he licked his lip, “For now, you just need to… adjust.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, come on. You take me well enough.” He slithered. “Gotta have you ready… I have a break just after five. I expect you can hit pause on your studying for a visit.”

You were stunned. You set the cup down and rubbed your cheeks as you tried to process it all.

“You’re disgusting.” You sneered.

“Oh,” he closed the app and searched through his phone. He turned it to you and hit place, “So are you, sweetie.”

You squinted as you saw yourself against the glass, your tits bouncing as Ransom fucked you from behind, his own face hidden by the angle of the security camera. You swallowed and your hands went to your neck as your skin burned with humiliation.

“You…” you were speechless and tore your eyes way from his phone.

“I have a lot more than that,” he assured you as he spun the phone back to him and watched the footage with a leer, “Hurry up.” He locked the screen. “Or I’ll make sure we’re both late.”

[gleamglowsgraveyard]

How about Sirius finding out the reader has a crush on him...and gives her her first kiss? 😘

cigarettes and firewhisky

pairing: sirius/reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: amortentia is no fun to make when you’re partnered up with the person you know it’s going to end up smelling like.

content: fluff, me being bad at writing slughorn, very brief mention of sirius’s family issues, confessions in an empty classroom, kissing but nothing spicy (edit: rereading this i realized i made the reader pretty gender neutral! no pronouns or anything like that :)

you know i had to pull the amortentia trope. this was a cute request, thank you so much! also thank you to my anons who sent in what they thought sirius smelled like, you guys were a lot of help! (except the person who suggested that sirius smells like wet dog. you know who you are.)

This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. Surely some higher power was laughing at you from above, taunting you and your dreadful luck.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute. How on earth did you end up being paired up with Sirius Black of all people?! And - even worse - making the worst potion ever concocted?!

If you weren’t in public you’re sure you’d be letting out a crazed laugh out of pure mania.

So far you’ve been able to dodge all of his attempts at conversation, quickly sending him off to find another ingredient as soon as he got too chatty. You’d hardly made any eye contact at all, and any time he handed you something you were careful not to have his fingertips even slightly graze your own.

In truth, you’ve had an enormous crush on Sirius Black since third year, and it had only gotten worse as the years went by. This meant that by now, you had become a bit of an expert at avoiding him at all costs.

But now it was all ruined. Years of hard work spiraling down the drain all because of fucking Amortentia.

Why couldn’t it have been a simple calming draught? Or a shrinking solution? Hell, you would’ve even preferred to make Slughorn his lunch!

And it’s not as if you can sabotage the potion, either! That would mean Sirius’s grade suffering too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

There was no way out but to lie about what the potion smells of if he asks. Simple! That way no one finds out - more importantly, that way Sirius doesn’t find out - about your silly little crush. Foolproof. Genius. Inspired-!

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You jolt as panic overtakes you, snapping your head up to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“Do you like me?” he repeats, smiling slightly. “I can’t help but feel like you hate me, seeing as you haven’t looked at me or talked to me at all.”

Internally, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad you had misinterpreted the question.

“No! I-” Your voice is much too high, you stop to clear your throat. “I do! I do like you, I um... Sorry! I promise I don’t hate you, I guess I’m just... shy.” You finish your blabbering by looking away, pretending to inspect the fire below your cauldron.

When you raise your gaze again Sirius is still looking at you - observing you as if you’re an interesting puzzle that he can’t quite figure out.

“Um!” you quickly turn your attention to the potion, hoping he does the same. “Nearly done, right? Here.” You hold out the wooden spoon for him to take. “Five more clockwise stirs.”

He looks at the spoon but then folds his hands behind his back. “You do it,” he offers instead.

You purse your lips but nod anyway, bringing the wood up to the cauldron’s opening. The pearlescent liquid shifts under the spoon as it touches the surface, and once it’s fully submerged you take a deep breath and start stirring.

One... Two... Three... Four...

As soon as you finish the fifth stir your nose is assaulted by a suffocating aroma of cigarettes and firewhisky. You quickly step back, coughing and tossing the spoon on the table, but the scent follows you.

That doesn’t smell very appealing! Had you done something wrong? You could have sworn you’d followed the recipe exactly!

But then suddenly the scent changes, rapidly becoming much more welcoming. Cigarettes and firewhisky quickly turns into the undertone to something different... Cinnamon shampoo? But also... cologne, and... You could also catch the faint whiff of a brand new leather jacket.

“I think...” you start, eyes trained on the potion that now has delicate tendrils of steam coming off its surface. “I think we did it.” You laugh a bit in astonishment, proud of the fact that you’d managed to make such an advanced potion.

When you turn your head Sirius is looking at you again, in that infuriating way with his gorgeous eyes and stupid grin. You desperately want to look away but just can’t bring yourself to do so.

“How can you tell?” he asks quietly, and you suddenly feel everything else in the room slip away until it’s just him in front of you.

“I... It-”

“What’s it smell like?”

His low voice puts you in such a trance that for a moment you think you’re about to tell him the truth, but you quickly remember what you’d decided on earlier. Lie.

“Ban-” Bananas? No! “Bal-” Balloons? What would that even mean?! “Bu... bblegum. Bubblegum.” You finally land on, and then give a minuscule wince.

Bubblegum?! Although, you suppose it’s better than balloons...

“Bubblegum?” Sirius repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yep! And is that...? Oh! Firewood!” you continue, pulling lies out of thin air. Sirius’s furrowed brows fade away, and an amused smile starts to form on his features instead.

“And, um... And sun cream! Huh, weird.”

“Bubblegum, firewood, and sun cream?” Sirius lists, as if needing clarification from you.

“Well, I-”

“And look what we have here!” Professor Slughorn’s booming voice is suddenly feet away from the two of you, standing right beside your cauldron. “I do believe we have our first finished brew of Amortentia! Although I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr. Black,” Slughorn beams, giving Sirius a knowing look.

Sirius just shuffles awkwardly.

If Slughorn notices Sirius’s discomfort, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he continues, “You know, your father was an exceptional potion maker. Very talented indeed, and you and your brother seem to be following in his footsteps! Although I must say, young Regulus has been a bit unfocused lately, he-”

“Uh, professor?” you speak up when Sirius flinches at his brother’s name.

Slughorn blinks and then looks at you as if he’s just noticed you were there. “Oh- Yes?”

“So... The potion? Did we do it right?”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course! Full marks!” He waves you off, as if you were being silly for even asking. “And ten points for each of you!” he adds for good measure before strolling off, most likely to go torment some other student with a famous surname.

After that, Sirius doesn’t much seem to be up for talking anymore. He focuses all his attention on cleaning up your station, closing up jars of rose petals and pearl dust. You follow his lead, albeit a bit sluggishly.

A few minutes ago you would’ve been okay with Sirius’s silence - happy, even, if it meant you didn’t have to deal with your little crush. But now you would give anything to have him cheerful and smiling again - even if he looked at you with those annoyingly pretty eyes.

Once class is over you’re quick to duck out of the room, desperately wanting to leave Slughorn and Amortentia and the smell of cigarettes and firewhisky behind you.

It’s all over now, everything went according to plan and you can finally go back to doing what you do best. Secretly pining after Sirius Black from a distance.

It’s safe. It’s what you’re good at.

You’re just about ready to forget about this day entirely when you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

...Maybe you were hearing things.

You speed up your steps but then he calls your name again and you’re forced to slow down, waiting for him to catch up. When he does he gives you another winning smile and your heart does a flip.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, and you listen intently. “Sorry about uh... Just... Thanks.”

You’re a bit taken aback. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a ‘thank you’.

“I... For what?” you ask, genuinely perplexed, but trying not to sound rude.

“Getting Slughorn to leave,” he clarifies with a grin. “He’s always been the same... I’ve been dealing with that for seven years now.”

There’s laughter in his voice but you can tell it’s a bit frayed at the edges. He’s clearly trying - and failing - to play it off as no big deal.

“Sorry,” you offer lamely. “That doesn’t sound fun.”

It really doesn’t.

You don’t know much about Sirius’s family, but you know enough to understand that he probably doesn’t like to be constantly reminded of them. Sharing their last name and seeing his brother in the halls was probably more than enough.

“It’s fine. And, I didn’t just want to thank you,” he says quickly, realizing that the conversation had gotten gloomy.

“Oh?” you voice with a bit of a nervous smile.

“I wanted to ask what it smelled like. The Amortentia.”

There goes your heart again. A million miles a minute.

“What do you mean?” you ask, laughing a bit. “I told you. Bubblegum and um...”

Shoot! What were the other two?!

“Firewood and sun cream?” Sirius prompts, and you nod frantically.

“Yep! That was it!” you’re quick to blurt out. Unconsciously, you pick up your pace, now traveling at a slight speed walk.

Sirius keeps up easily. “But you’re lying,” he accuses, pointing a finger at you, and you swear you start to sweat. “You started coughing when you finished stirring. What did you smell then?”

“I-! Well-! The bubblegum was very pungent, and I-”

“And it looked to me like you were just naming anything that came to your head. Were you about to say balloons at one point?”

“You know, I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this, and quite frankly I- woah!”

You suddenly find that you’re being pulled somewhere by the elbow, and only when you hear a door close behind you do you realize that Sirius has dragged you into an empty classroom. You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings, because Sirius is asking you again:

“So what did you smell?”

You consider lying again, but he’s staring at you with his big, pretty eyes, just waiting for you to tell the truth and all of a sudden you really, really want to.

You thought - you really thought - that you would be content to just go back to crushing on him from a safe distance, but then the Amortentia had happened and he had looked at you different. He was looking at you differently even now - eyes glittering, listening attentively for your answer. And suddenly pining from a distance doesn’t seem so appealing.

You groan in frustration, bringing both of your hands up to cover your face. You just can’t believe what this boy is doing to you.

“It’s so stupid,” you admit, feeling your cheeks head up beneath your palms.

“It’s not,” he assures you, gently wrapping both his hands around each of your wrists, silently asking you to stop covering your face.

You shake you head. “It is, and if you’re asking then you already know.”

“So humor me.”

You abruptly drop your hands to look up at him and, woah - had he always been that close? He’d definitely gotten a bit closer since you’d closed your eyes.

You let out a shaky breath. “Cigarette smoke... Firewhisky...” you trail off. You mean to keep going, but decide to wait for Sirius’s initial reaction first.

Sirius blinks. “Gross,” he says after a beat, and it startles a laugh out of you.

“Yeah, a bit. I thought we messed it up, but then... Um, it changed.”

You search his features for any signs of discomfort, but find none. In fact, Sirius seems to be basking in every word you tell him.

So you keep going, very quietly, “Cologne and...” Without thinking you bring a hand up to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Leather and... Cinnamon...”

You hand moves of it’s own volition, resting on the junction of Sirius’s shoulder and neck and you stare dazedly at it for a moment. You blink and then realize what you’re doing.

You pull your hand away as if you’ve been burned. “Sorry, I-”

But then Sirius is leaning forward fast and - Merlin, was he about to kiss you?!

You panic for a moment, knowing you have to think quick. Your hand darts up again, this time landing on his collarbone, putting your palm flat up against him and pressing firmly, willing him to stop.

He gets the message and quickly pulls back. “I’m sorry-”

“No!” you blurt out so fast that it sounds more like a squeak. “No, no, it’s not that I don’t... I mean I want to, I do I just...” You screw your eyes shut. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Fuck,” Sirius lets out a laugh.

Your heart sinks as you open your eyes. Was he laughing at you?

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” he clarifies quick, as if reading your mind. “For a second I thought the Amortentia was a big coincidence and you didn’t like me at all.” he smiles, and you realize his laugh was a laugh of relief.

“No! I-!” You groan again and lean against the closed door. Was it confession day or something?! “No, I’ve... I’ve liked you since third year.”

“What about first and second?” he fires back quick, grinning stupidly.

You don’t miss a beat. “I was scared of you, then. You were too loud.”

He barks out a laugh and you suddenly feel the urge to look away, feeling as if you’re intruding. And then you remember you’re not. It’s just you and Sirius here. So many times you’d seen that laugh from a distance, across a crowded Great Hall but now it was just for you.

Sirius speaks up once his laughter dies down. “Look, you don’t have to-”

“No, I want to-”

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-”

“You haven’t! I just-”

“We can just go to class-”

“Sirius!” you say sharply, and he looks at you with wide eyes. “Kiss me. Please,” you say with a laugh, wanting him to shut up already.

He grins and then wastes no time in leaning forward, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. You smell it again - cinnamon shampoo, cologne, new leather, and - very faintly - cigarettes and firewhisky.

You melt into the kiss, bringing you hands up to rest at the nape of his neck, idly playing with the strands of hair you find. It’s awkward at first, but you try your best to relax into it, following Sirius’s lead and just doing whatever comes naturally.

He pulls away and you slowly blink your eyes back open, willing yourself out of the trance Sirius’s lips had just put you in.

“Fast learner,” he whispers, smiling, and you laugh.

“We should get to class...” you suggest halfheartedly, not stepping away or making any move to leave.

“Yeah,” Sirius agrees, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Probably...”

You both look at each other for a few beats, but then you each break into a smile.

And he kisses you again.

.

.

.

taglist <3 // @isxfisticated @l-adysansa @tomshollandz

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched And Divine (Pt. 8)

(Yoon Min Joon x Reader) (Hybrid au) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers in hidden lies and dead bodies. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks. The clock ticks closer- every second he has with you bringing him closer to zero.

Tags: pregnant! Reader, Dead bodies, hybrid on hybrid violence, referenced police mistreatment/indifference, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, referenced drug use/overdosing, Angst, touch starved characters, violence, explicit sexual content, foursome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, Breeding kink, knotting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, unrealistic amounts of cum, cumplay, marking kink, Dom/sub undertones, Dom! Namjoon- Sub! everyone else, Cum control, Overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)

W/c: 20.3k~

A/n: get ready for some nasty af smut~ But also be mindful of the angsty tags. You guys are gonna hate me for the cliffhanger! 

Series Masterlist

One month after your husband's death

- Yoongi had learned when and where not to provoke his owner over the years. Yoongi hadn’t been born with the ability to hold his tongue, His biting proclivities earning him more than a few broken ribs and bloody noses in his lifetime. But no matter, his owner had trained his tongue out of him, had even threatened to cut it out on occasion.

- And yet, his personality couldn’t be measured in the same way, a simple eye roll or a huff or sigh was enough to land him in trouble. Which is why he’s in the position he’s in now; Bloody lip, another bruise likely forming under his eye and on his ribs. His head spinning from what is likely another concussion. How many could a person get before they had brain damage? Whatever the number- Yoongi was probably toeing the line or already over it.

- He’s trying to avoid more damage, which is why he sits outside of the living room of their double-wide trailer. His owner has a nicer house somewhere- but this is the place that’s always functioned as the stomping grounds for all of her illegal business. And It’s the only building that Yoongi’s ever been able to call home.

- The yellowing walls that have turned greasy with cigarette smoke over the years, as well as the thin blanket and the pillow that he uses on the couch when no ones hanging around. If they are and the house is filled with gangsters- Yoongi’s usually doomed to the floor or until they leave for the night. Only able to sleep without his back to the wall when the gangsters stop their drugging (usually methamphetamines) and intoxication (most often moonshine)

- More than one person’s overdosed on the couch that Yoongi calls his bed. He tries not to think about it when he goes to sleep. What did it matter if someone else had died here- at least Yoongi was still alive.

- Even breathes stick in Yoongi’s lungs like honey, something dammed and impure. It’s a testament to his nerves (or years of learned abuse) that he doesn’t flinch when the crashes and bangs increase from the other room. It’s just glass breaking- now gunfire- that would have Yoongi ducking and running for cover.

- Revelry like he’s used to surviving through hasn’t existed in recent months, not since the business, or lack thereof had started to seep into every moment like a slow-moving poison. Gang wars are messy and they take years to play out. But it hadn’t been until four weeks ago that his owner’s gang had suffered its first casualty. A gang couldn’t exist without its plug, and now there was a power vacuum in the underworld. And whoever controlled the supply would be the most in-demand.

- “I’ve had enough of your bullshit excuses! If you don’t find the shipment this instant I’m going to start blowing brains like bubbles” his owner screeches. A tumble and shatter sounds from the other room, probably the plate of food Yoongi took in before. Cooking was one of his only valuable skills according to his owner, and he’s spent at least a quarter of his life avoiding a beating by becoming a better cook.

- The threat doesn't bother him. Yoongi barely lets himself think about the business of the gang, the bloodstains and bodies that they’ve most definitely left in their wake. He tries not to let it bother him knowing that there will probably be more in the next few months. His only concern is making sure his body isn’t one of them.

- Yoongi doesn’t care about anything other than keeping himself alive. And even that just barely.

- He listens from outside the door, her screaming finally quieting. This isn’t the first meltdown of her’s he’s witnessed this week. He hears the rustling of papers, silence from her as whoever's on the other side of the phone speaks. “Yeah I have it, fuck- his bitch must really be moving if she already has this in the goddamn paper.” She pauses, and Yoongi hears one of the gangsters stoop to try and clean up the mess that she’s surely made, “If that’s true, I think I know the perfect person for the job- if you can even call it that.” 

- It helps that Yoongi’s not expected to speak. Sometimes, when there’s a loud enough noise, or when he sneaks out to walk the sum mile to the beach, Yoongi speaks. Just a sentence or two at a time, his voice gruff and sore after a few words. Just to make sure that he can still do it and hasn’t forgotten how. That his voice still exists hidden somewhere in his chest and his throat. Locked away like a delicate yolk- only able to be seen if you break the eggshell outside.

- “Yoongi!” his owner shrieks, and he has the good sense to hasten to a place where she can see him. He stands in the doorway and doesn’t meet her eyes. There are a few assorted gangsters here. His owner looks unhinged, her flyaway hairs sticking in front of her face, wiping away smudged lipstick and a fair amount of saliva that had dripped down her chin from all her screaming.

- “I have a job for you” She tosses a newspaper at him, and Yoongi catches it easily. Careful not to step into the mess of glass that would surely cut his feet. A drawn red circle cuts through an article on a local high school to highlight something in the purchased ads. Just a little map with a heading “hybrid sanctuary: a safe place, three meals a day. If you or anyone you know has witnessed hybrid abuse, please call this number for help.”

- Yoongi looks up, giving her a short nod. Yoongi will do whatever she needs in order to survive. Anything to keep the blood in his veins and his heart beating. 

- He listens patiently while she explains the plan.

---------- Now---------

- The clock ticks, and You don’t find the body until noon. By then there are flies buzzing around him. Blood already dried on those fingertips and underneath His fingernails- the sun warming his body like the hybrid could still be alive.

- You’re just retiring from a day working in the garden (usual and ordinary) when one of the bear hybrids thunders through your door- his eyes wide, shouting for you (strange and surprising). Yoongi is the only one with you; Jimin’s just set off down the hill to change. Namjoon’s not in the house either; helping Jin with more fencing for the animals. 

- Your grim expression is mirrored in the terse face of the teenage hybrid that had been going for a walk when he’d found him. You’d started down the hill at a run At least until Yoongi had stopped you. Eyeing your stomach with a worried expression. It’s not that you can’t run or that he doesn’t think you should it’s that the hilly path down to the front entrance is littered with potholes.

- It’s not your first time seeing a dead body (that honor is owed to your late husband) but the unnatural way a body lies still is always incredibly unnerving. You lean over the body nausea rolls in your belly worse than it ever did in the first few months you were battling your morning sickness. But you know you can’t vomit over a crime scene.

- You recognize the body, It’s one of your hybrids; a coyote hybrid that came to you after the second month you were open, and had come and gone quite a bit since then. You need to look at your ledger to know for sure if he was in-between stay or if he’d been here prior to today.

- You tend to be a little laxer with the hybrids that aren’t permanent residents of the farm. You barely even learn the names of the deer hybrids that come for a dinner or two here and there before they go. You’re used to the nomads and this hybrid was one of them. You’re kicking yourself for that now. Because if you have a killer in your mix- a shiver goes down your spine at the thought of any of them being in danger. You need to get all of your hybrids in one place to make sure they’re safe. Right now.

- You turn to yoongi and the teenager; a bear hybrid from Tae's group- Beomgyu. You recall the little details you know about him- how he likes to hang around with Yeonjun and the other cats in the kitchen sometimes. He’s so young, eyes wide, shaking his head making his curved ears flop when he finally tears his eyes away from the body and looks at your face. 

- You make your voice more soothing, “Ring the lunch bell- get everyone by the main barns okay? We need to make sure everyone is accounted for” the bear hybrid turns to run up the hill but you catch his arm. “The barns have to direct a line of sight to here- so keep the children in the far-field, after you ring the bell- get Namjoon and Taehyung and tell them to come here before you tell anyone what's happened.” The last thing you need is a group stumbling around here and contaminating a crime scene.

- He leaves with a thunder of footsteps in the dry grass, “Yoongi” you say, “Would you mind going up to the main house to get the logbook and my cellphone?” Yoongi looks like he doesn’t want to leave eyeing the road with a suspicious glare. Making a noise in his throat and staying put. “Yoongi” your voice is strangled- like you’re trying not to cry. “He’s been dead for hours, any danger here has passed, I’m safe- I promise.” but Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your hand and then thinks better of it.

- At the sound of heavy footsteps you both look back up the hill- Namjoon racing in your direction, his ears pinned to his head with Taehyung not far behind. He gives you one final glance and nods before he takes off up the hill. Namjoon stops when they pass, calling his name but Yoongi doesn’t stop. “let him go Namjoon” you call behind.  

- The bell that they use to call people in at mealtimes tolls out across the field.

- Yoongi watches as the kits raise their heads from their playing in the field. A look at the sun telling them that it’s too early to be called in for dinner, lunch just finished. The confusion that gives way to panic as he travels through a crowd of older hybrids. He almost runs into one of the cat hybrids as she leaves the kitchen. Shouting back to her friend that’s fussing with something. “Just turn off the stove- something’s wrong we need to go.”

- Yoongi snatches the book from your small office off the living room and thunders back down the porch steps, pausing when he sees it. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference- or noticed it at all. But Yoongi used to survive by noticing the small day-to-day differences in his world; and it’s a habit that hasn’t died even though Yoongi no longer needs it to survive.

- There is a piece of paper stuck behind your windshield wipers on your car. Not a ticket and not a note- but a business card. And Yoongi knows it wasn’t there yesterday.

- Yoongi pauses, your phone in one hand, and the logbook in another. He shoves your phone in his pocket and wastes precious seconds to retrieve it. It’s simple- just plain cardstock a single sentence on the other side. “You’re welcome” there isn’t any signature beside a small doodled bunny rabbit. 

- Yoongi knows that signature. Memories dredge up from the bottom of his mind like a swell of cold water washing over him. He’d seen his old owner- (his current owner- his own internal monologue berates him) go into a rage after seeing that same moniker spray-painted across her truck or buildings on more than one occasion.

- Yoongi rolls his tongue over his teeth, putting it together. His owner’s words- dimly alluding to a second mole at the farm- warning Yoongi to be careful. And now this- a thank you card from a rival gang. Chaos whirls around him as different groups run to the barns. He hears Taehyung’s raised voice “Everyone quiet! I need you to listen to me- please!” 

- Other hushed words echo from the field as Yoongi puts it together. In a moment, Yoongi knows what’s happened- but he can’t for the life of him understand the motivation.

- What motivation could his owner’s rival have to kill their mole? And if he knew who at the farm was connected to the gang life- why didn’t he kill Yoongi last night too? This body and this note raise too many questions.

- Yoongi doesn’t think it through, just shoves the card into the bottom of his work boot, hiding it so that it lies flat under his sock. Knowing it's better to hide it then hand it over to the police. Yoongi’s hands shake with the very idea of you being caught up in this mess. Although it looks like it's already too late for that. How much less involved can you be with a dead body on your front doorstep?

- If the note is addressed to you? How much do you know about your late husband's business- if anything?

- You attribute Yoongi’s shakiness to the dead body you’re deceptively calm- nausea set aside when he gets back. yoongi nearly runs into taehyung on the way down the hill. Anger an annoyance and worry rolling off the bear hybrid in heady waves. “Don’t worry- Jimin and I have nearly everyone in the barns already, and Daehyun and Hoseok are taking care of the cubs on the other side of the field” 

- Taehyung barely looks at Yoongi as he passes, shouting at you over his shoulder. It helps to hear that Jimin is all right, but Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll believe it until he sees the other hybrid with his own two eyes. Namjoon looks much the same. Though he holds your hand tight as he can.

- You call the police the second Yoongi hands over your phone. And together- you wait for them. Namjoon sends an anxious glance both of your ways. It doesn’t take long before you can hear the sirens heading in your direction, echoing out over the empty hills.

- Back up at the barns, Jimin sits on the second floor, the windows are opened to their full capacity to let in a nonexistent breeze. The top floor of the barn isn’t really the most comfortable place to be in the middle of the day, the heat muggy, and all-encompassing. But every dog hybrid is in their bunk room. but it’s too hot to be comfortable regardless of the fans running at full power. Jimin sits on the floor dangling his feet over the side.

- Below- Jimin watches Taehyung as he does a headcount. Clipboard in hand, shouting names and waiting for people to respond. the hybrids have separated themselves by type, bunny hybrids on the outer edge, bear hybrids close to the center around Tae, Cat hybrids on the ground floor to stay out of the sun. Jimin and dog hybrids- the most easily riled up and hardest to contain because of their energy- on the top floor where they’d all stay put and not sneak off. 

- Jimin’s room has already been counted, there isn’t much left to do but wait and watch. If he looks over the hillock he can see the police cars and you. The flashing blue and red lights and a small group.

- A small crowd has gathered to watch and linger, police tape set up to the entrance of your farm. A few of your neighbors gathered too at the sound and small-town gossip is sure to follow. Your two closest neighbors- an elderly couple come over to ask you a few questions about all the commotion. They’ve never been unpleasant to you or hostile, still happy that you took their farm animals off their hands many months ago. But they remain firmly separated from your hybrids on either side of a circle of crime scene tape.

- When Jimin looks to the other side, he can see Hoseok and another dog hybrid with the children. Sequestered them with a bunch of games and ice pops on the other side of the hill, away from any and all possibility of them seeing something they shouldn’t.

- Even some of your hybrids linger around the crime scene. the leaders of various groups that need to see for themselves. Beomgyu is here too as well- even though you gave him a look that said you dont need to see this. As it is, you give the teenagers that refuse to go a questioning cross look. Yeonjun in particular just shrugs at you when you give him an expectant look. All of the teenaged hybrids are particularly used to your no-nonsense looks. It doesn’t help that he’s several inches taller than you. 

- “You really think this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body?” one of the other cat hybrids has the good sense to cuff him over the back of his head for that one. You know he’s young, but some respect for life and death is something he’ll have to learn at one point or another. If he wants to stay that bad- you’ll let him. 

- Namjoon might hate the police, but he does speak their language, and it’s easy for you to sink to his side and rely on him to take over the story as you relate everything you know (which isn’t much). The pack leaders- or what would be the pack leaders all waiting on the fringes. Taehyung comes back to tell you that there isn’t anyone but a few bunny hybrids missing- quickly sniffed out by one of the dog hybrids, all of them looking a little pink-cheeked and embarrassed from whatever they were doing.

- That gets a few laughs out of everyone that’s gathered- Taehyung shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but tempers still remain raised. From the top story of the barn, Jimin watches it unfold. Taehyung shoots him a tired look.

- A quick look at your ledger shows that the last time the hybrid left was just a little over a week ago. Your fingers hover over the date. The book is photographed by the crime scene photographers too, the camera bulbs flashing, a few of your more sensitive hybrids have to turn away- the bright flash too glaring. The officers take little notice of their discomfort.

- They tell you that they might come back to collect it for official evidence. It’s nice to have something to give the police to show them that the hybrid wasn’t in your care when he died. You have a good reputation with them because of your ex-husband as much as you hate to admit it. And it’s jarring to hear you referred to as his widow, especially with Namjoon standing so close, a protective presence between you and the police. 

- A few months ago you might have started breaking down when you heard his name, but all you have to do is look at Namjoon to know that you’re okay, you’re both safe. 

- Well maybe not now- if you have a killer in your midst then you’re all certainly not as safe as you thought.

- For all the feaux concern they have about the dead hybrid- the ones around you might as well be window dressing. They would have ignored Namjoon entirely if he hadn’t introduced himself as an ex-police hybrid.

- It’s more than that, their unconcern sinks under your skin and makes you want to shout at them as they take his body away in a black body bag. They promise you they’ll try to find whatever killed him. They don’t look too bothered- another dead hybrid isn’t anything new or a cause for panic to them, about as regular as finding any other pet- and not a fucking human being- dead or murdered.

- The police tell you they’ll do what they can- but a dead hybrid is hardly their priority, even if it makes a growl build in Namjoon’s throat when they brush off your concern. Your blood boils. 

- But as the sequestering drags on and on into the afternoon- and the temperature increases with every moment everyone still has to stay put. the idle chatter quickly turns agitated. In the main barn- A few of them have been playing cards on and off, most of them in states of undress because of the heat. Jimin is the only man still wearing his shirt, though it’s only his tank top.

- “What the fuck do you think it is? Who do you think killed them?” Jimin listens in on the other hybrid's conversation against his own violation. He’s never been close to the other dog hybrids at the farm save for Namjoon, and he’s not about to start right now. They laugh, but it sounds more like a bark- or a hyena chuckle, “you know me- if there’s an issue my money's always on the snake,”

- Jimin’s head whips around, “Excuse me?” the hybrids turn to him, “oh Jimin- we forgot we were here” if they want that insult to sting- they’re going to have to try a little harder. Jimin was used to being forgotten for the first half of his life, and that won’t start hurting now.

- Sweat drips down the back of Jimin’s neck, “he has a name you know,” he says with no real venom. it’s greeted with resounding scoffs from a few of his bunkmates. He lets the silence sit for a moment before the weight of it grows too oppressive for him to handle, “What?” he says feeling like he’s missing something. The rest of the hybrids in the bunk room fall quiet.

- The dog hybrid- Taeyong- Jimin’s brain reminds him, snickers. “Nothing- just- figures you’d be possessive of him after yesterday.” A flush of heat hits Jimin’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Someone must have seen Yoongi leave the showers and then seen Jimin leave a short minute later looking sex dazed. He knows the meeting had left his scent all smelling like honey arousal. They must have put two and two together.

- Damn those bunny hybrids with their sensitive noses. Now that Jimin thinks about it- Taeyong is a friend of one of them- a small little rabbit called Jihan.

- Jimin shrugs it off because fuck them- he is protective of Yoongi and this conversation only shows the reason for that. But they don’t leave it at that- not at all. Taeyong taps his foot against the floor, grinning and showing the edge of a sharp incisor “Being with him will only end you in an early grave you know, but you might as well keep your head down and enjoy your one-way ticket to living up at the big house.” 

- “That’s not why I’m- we’re not-“ he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say that he’s with Yoongi- not officially, not yet. And though there is something with them. Jimin doesn’t know how to put a name to it. let alone how to put a name to what he has with all of you. 

- There must be something written on his face, because the hybrid sits back, satisfied that he’s hit Jimin with something that can stick. The other hybrids snicker. A fair few turn away- sensing the fight that’s about to develop, content to stay out of it.

- “You know he doesn’t deserve to be up at the big house right,” Jimin can’t stop himself from getting angry at the calloused way they talk about Yoongi. His temper rising with the heat, Jimin has never been good at holding his tongue, and maybe it’s his fault that things happen the way they do. Jimin rises, and so does Taeyong, Suddenly chest to chest, “well if he doesn’t deserve it- you certainly don’t, maybe if you guys were just kind for once in your life you’d be staying up there too.” Jimin barks.

- A few other hybrids blanch, and more turn away, Jimin’s misspoke- can judge by the silence that he’s the one being judged. “And I actually happen to enjoy their company- I’m not-”

- Jimin knows what he’s just insinuated, that being loved is just a correlation of being kind and pleasant to be around. (You’ve been talking through that particular thing with him. The fawn response to abuse. And Jimin knows he should unpack that later, but like many other things- it just slips out. His post-traumatic stress disorder makes him think things he knows are wrong. He doesn’t believe the words he says, not really.)

- Taeyong steps forwards, and Jimin shrinks back sudden bravery forgotten. “You’re not what? Being a manipulative little puppy? Batting your eyes at them so that you could get a spot? Go tell that lie to someone who believes you. You might be a puppy, but you’re a snake to your core.” 

- Jimin has never wanted Taehyung to be there more than now. Where is he when he needs him? Jimin looks back through the open window, but Taehyung isn’t below them on the patio. Their fight seems to have gotten more than a little attention. Wide eyes upturned, startled by the sound of raised voices. It's the wrong moment to look away because suddenly Jimin’s reeling from a shove, two hands on either shoulder. 

- Jimin catches himself on the window frame. The open space taunting and frightening. All at once, the image hits him; another well-placed shove- Jimin falling- cracking against the slate patio outside where you usually set up dinner, the ground hard and unforgiving. Bones breaking. 

- Jimin isn’t sure why he says it; “No wonder why you haven’t got adopted if this is how you act when someone disagrees with you.”

- Jimin’s never fallen from any height before. But he’s been tossed and pushed and shoved, and never learned how to fight back. He freezes now at the memory of it. He’s been shoved into concrete before, and he bets slate hurts just as much.

- “Don’t pretend like you haven’t had your eyes set on the big house since you first got here puppy, little thing like you probably just wants to be owned- how do you even have an ounce of self-“ 

- Jimin gets shoved again, and he barely manages to hold his ground. Taeyong grips his shirt in both his fists, lifting Jimin up so that he struggles to keep his feet on the ground. 

- From below, he hears a shriek, His name shouted from your mouth. You run as fast as you can, Yoongi stayed behind to help you. His face turned up imploring at Jimin. Jimin hears the thud of Namjoon’s feet on the wooden floor below. He and Taehyung, as they take the stairs two at a time. Jimin doesn’t know how they knew to come, or how suddenly everything’s escalated.

- The other hybrid steps forward, and there is nowhere left for him to go, Jimin grips the window frame, and tries not to let go.

- Namjoon’s words can barely be made out around the growl, suddenly in the doorway. Jimin keeps his eyes on the hybrid in front of him. Not at Namjoon’s face, screwed tight with anger. “Enough, step away from him.”

- Namjoon looks more threatening than Jimin’s ever seen him, teeth bared, ready to attack. His curved ears quivering as Namjoon seems to swell in the doorway, his eyes shiny and reflective in the half-light. An alpha ready to protect his own. The scars that crisscross his face a reminder of the lengths he’s willing to go to protect his family.

- A sheepish looking Taehyung toes the line behind him, “I’m sorry- I heard the beginning outside the door and went to get them” Jimin is at once thankful for Taehyung and a little angry- because really? He couldn’t be bothered to just intervene then? Taeyong seems to think for a moment before he lets Jimin go. Jimin sees Namjoon’s hands tighten into fists by his side. The threat of what he might have tried to do dissipating. You rush forward with Yoongi, pulling Jimin out of the doorway.

- More than one hybrid in the room jerks when you get too close to the window. They can’t help it- for many of them, you’re the only human they’ve had a positive relationship with. And the dog hybrids are nothing if not a loyal bunch. Which is probably why Taeyong shrinks back, nostrils flared- still angry and feeling threatened. like a cornered animal. 

- Jimin tries not to run back to Namjoon’s side- but it's hard, especially when he makes eye contact with Yoongi. Your chest heaving blinking away tears as You pull Jimin to you easily, a hand on his cheek. Eyes so worried, searching his face and his frame for even a hint of damage. The words are out of his mouth before he even has a chance “I’m okay- it’s okay- I’m fine.”

- “It wasn’t my fault, Jimin started it” you look up, and Jimin can tell from the tilt of your eyes that you don’t believe them for a second, your voice is shaky when you speak, so quiet. and jimin wonders- how many other times you’d spoken up like this in your past against your ex-husband and gotten hurt for it. It takes no small amount of bravery for you to speak now and Jimin’s arms tighten protectively around you. 

- “This isn’t- this isn’t how you treat another person Taeyong even if he did start it- you don’t react with violence.” one of the other hybrids shakes his head at Taeyong- but he doesn't react well to your words. Bearing his teeth at you and it takes every ounce of self-control for your three hybrids not to jump in front of you at such an obvious display of aggression. 

- “He shoved me first” Taeyong lies, and Namjoon answers it with a growl. stepping up to go chest to chest with him in much the same way that Jimin had just minutes before. The other dog hybrid crumbles against the alphas stare. “Would you like to repeat that? or do you maybe want to tell the truth this time?”

- You pull Jimin behind you and Namjoon steps between you and the other hybrids, looming and large in the small space. “If I hear that you're causing any more trouble you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say “it wasn’t my fault” Namjoon barks, turns, both you and he have a hand on Jimin’s trembling shoulders. When did they start shaking?

- A sudden hush has settled over the hybrids, everyone is here to witness it. And it doesn’t make sense until they hear a set of quiet footsteps at the door. “Is everything alright miss?” the police officer says in the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the hybrids. His hand hovering dangerously close to the gun in his holster. The fucking police- Jimin had almost forgotten they were here.

- You don’t look shaken, stepping back to be between him and your hybrids, and the police officers' shoulders relax. You’re so disarming- Jimin barely sees you shake even though he can smell the distress rolling off of you in waves. Turning your usual scent all muddy. Your smile is strained, “No officer- everyone’s just a little bit high strung right now I think. We’re fine.” 

- “Sorry for that distraction, we can continue up to the main house if you’d like. After you.” You set back off down the steps and Jimin knows what you’re doing- keeping the police officer away from them because you know how twitchy the cops make most of the hybrids. “No thank you- I dont think that will be necessary. As your k-9 unit specified earlier in his interview the crime scene is mostly contained in the driveway. I think we’ve seen enough.”

- Jimin can’t help but stumble to Namjoon’s side, pressed tight under the arm of his alpha. Namjoon’s disarmed by Jimin's sudden need for affection; for his alpha all around him. “We’ll talk about this later” Taehyung glowers at the other hybrids and they all fall silent. Namjoon’s ire- they might be a little more used to but Taehyung’s anger is used a little more sparingly. The four of them, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung the unlikely fourth turn to leave.

- You’re already in the lower level of the barn when Taeyong speaks, his voice low to keep it out of earshot from you. “Sure thing pet,” Taeyong says under his breath- though really what was he trying to do? Everyone here had above average hearing- so really, his whispered insults whereas good as speaking at normal volume.

- And to a hybrid- being called a pet is the ultimate insult.

- Namjoon freezes in the doorway, no matter that Jimin’s hand pulls at the arm of his long-sleeved shirt. A whine building for him to just leave it alone. Namjoon turns, jabbing his finger at Taeyong. “I want you gone before sundown tomorrow.” 

- The four of them head down the stairs, leaving the silent room. The ground floor of the largest barn the area is flush with activity. With hybrids going every which way you must have decided that it was okay for everyone to return to their days as normal. Someone calls Taehyung’s name, asking for his help with something before he’s even fully down the narrow steps, Taehyung sends Jimin a single discerning look before he leaves. Namjoon utters a soft thank you to him as he slips away.

- In the grass- you share one final word with the police officer, shaking his hand with one hand resting on your baby bump. Though Jimin can tell from the way you hold yourself it's the last thing you want to do. He nods at Namjoon once as they approach and heads off down the hill. You’re quiet for a moment, going to hold jimin’s hand while Namjoon and Yoongi mill. None of you are sure what to do next.

- “I’m assuming Taeyong won’t be a problem anymore?” Namjoon has the good sense to look a little abashed at that. “He said- there was- he’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon.” Is all he says, and you nod, giving a sad look back to the barns. But you don’t counter what Namjoon’s said.

- And while Jimin knows there needs to be some sort of order here- it still seems a little extreme. Even if the threat of bodily harm was there- he didn’t actually do anything. It seems a little severe to throw them out for just a couple of words, and a shove. He tells Namjoon this much as they walk up the footpath to the main house.

- You whip your head around, looking stricken, and Jimin have to struggle not to flinch back, you look almost angry with yourself for the sudden movement. all of you are a little on edge. “He almost hurt you Jimin! he was about to-“ Yoongi fists a hand in the back of Jimin’s shirt, “if he’d hurt you I don’t know what I’d-“ you break off, and Jimin sees you sigh and the breath sounds all rickety like there's something else rattling around in your lungs. You shake your head and hold onto his hand tighter.

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip and keeps walking towards the main house after a moment. And he can’t help feeling like he was the one who kind of did start it. A hand on your arm to help you up the steps. You’re getting more and more pregnant every day, and your baby bump has become more of a mound than the small bulge you had when Jimin first came.

- Jimin just wants to make sure you don’t wobble or trip. Unable to shake the feeling that the reason why Namjoon had punished the others was because of how they’d treated Jimin- and not because of any rules.

- Jimin’s gotten to know you and Namjoon pretty well over the last few months, but the way Namjoon keeps his head down, playing with his hands, makes him look younger and more open than he’s ever been around Jimin. Namjoon and Jimin linger just inside your house. standing quietly- letting their tempers fade.  

- The cat hybrids have already started dinner, the clamor familiar and comforting. One of them hears you come in and calls your name; Yoongi is close behind, he doesn’t look at Jimin. And Jimin smells his scent- his fluffy marshmallow goodness twined with a hint of something burn and feels the guilt clinging to him like bad perfume. He’s about to head after him when Namjoon grabs his shoulder. “Should I- you’re going to stay up here right?”

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip. and even he has to admit that staying up here tonight is a more attractive offer than returning to the barns anytime soon. “Yes- if you want me too” Namjoon nods, looks shy, but Jimin can tell what he’s feeling through his scent. The worry makes the pine strong and musky and tempts Jimin to curl up in it. Namjoon couldn’t tolerate being separated from any of his pack right now; not with the danger of a killer on the loose. Namjoon tugs him in the direction of the stairs. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The last time he’d been up on the more private floor of your house he hadn’t really had any time to explore. Namjoon leads him to one of the unknown and previously unopened doors that line the long hallway between your master suite and the stairs, pointing out Yoongi’s room as they go. The room is small and more than a little dusty. But it’s the closest unoccupied room to the master suite and across the hall from Yoongi’s. “Oh” Jimin realizes as it clicks, “you meant stay- as in move in stay.”

- Namjoon has to kick away boxes of Christmas decorations to get to the queen covered with a white sheet that fluffs with dust when he pulls away. Jimin touches the edge softly. He’s never had a bed so big all to himself before- he doesn’t know how he’s going to handle so much vacant space next to him.

- There will be no soft sounds of sleep and rising chests when Jimin wakes in the middle of the night. Only the sounds of the house, and even though this means he’ll get to spend more time with you, Namjoon, and Yoongi, the room can’t help but feel lonely. Something in his chest reminds him that he’s not really that far, Yoongi’s room is across the hall, and yours just a few steps after that.

- Maybe he won’t feel so lonely after all.

- The windows are covered with thick drapes, kind of small in themselves. And it makes the room feel darker and cold. “We’ll move out the decorations to the attic tomorrow, are you gonna be okay with this for tonight? We can get you some fresh sheets and blankets.”

-  Jimin nods hands tugging back the curtains to let more light in. Namjoon reaches around him to crack it open when the window sticks. Even though this room doesn’t feel like his yet. Namjoon almost drops a box of decorations “you could also sleep in our room if you want?”

- Jimin can’t do much more than just blush and nod, stuttering out that he’ll decide later. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be all snuggled close between you and Namjoon it’s just that- things are happening a little too fast. Jimin feels like he might need a night to just decompress.

- The body, the police, the fight, and Jimin almost falling through the window. For some reason, Jimin feels paralyzed in that doorway. On one hand, he’s happy that he has a room here now that he doesn’t have to go back to the bunk room for more than his clothes, and on the other hand he’s sure he doesn’t deserve it.

- Like Namjoon can sense he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to feel, he pulls Jimin to follow him. Gentle orders that tell Jimin what to do with his body and give his mind a second to catch up. Namjoon retrieves fresh linens and a big fluffy blanket from the closet while Jimin hovers hugging a pillow to his chest. 

- The elder prattles along to Jimin about getting him some more things to fill the room like a dresser when Jimin notices it. A small narrow door that’s mostly glass down the hall from your master bedroom and the bathroom that Jimin assumes he’ll share with Yoongi.

- Unless Yoongi has a bathroom in his room. Jimin asks Namjoon- who tells Jimin that he does and Jimin pouts. He has to admit he wouldn’t mind Sharing a bathroom with Yoongi. Flashbacks of that night, of Yoongi’s skin, pressed close to his underneath the deluge of water- consume him for a moment at the thought of that. 

- Before he pads over to see the other room at the end of the hallway. It’s narrow, only the with of the couch at the end and twice as long, Jimin could probably touch both walls if he lied down on the floor Waist height windows ring the outside of the room and a few skylights cast square shadows on the floor, The roof slanted down at one edge.

- A single potted plant sits on the waist-high shelf- crusty and brown from no one watering it. He orients himself in the house to figure out what room is below him but the smells and sounds drifting up from the floor tells him he’s somewhere above the kitchens.

- He stands in the doorway. A thick layer of dust sits on everything. But the light is amazing. All golden in the afternoon haze though that might just be the walls. The light yellow paint is faded, cracked a bit by the doorway but it's nothing a fresh coat couldn’t fix.

- Jimin knows the second he sees it that he wants it.

- Namjoon finds him standing in the doorway. Already looking out the windows- he can see the gardens from here and the woods that stretch beyond. And the edge of a falling-down barn yet to be restored by you and Namjoon- and a tiny sliver of the river. “What- what is this?” Jimin’s voice is so hushed. So quiet, like he’s worried about disturbing the dust.

- Namjoon comes up close behind him, putting his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “It’s a sunroom.” Namjoon clarifies. In the afternoon light, Namjoon’s skin looks honeyed and golden, horizontal shafts of light stretching across his face. Namjoon pulls Jimin close, nose running along his hairline and near his ears, nuzzling into them. His back the perfect place for Jimin to rest his heavy shoulders. 

- “Is it okay if I- can I stay here and not the other room?” Namjoon’s smile is reassuring and gentle, “probably, but let's ask.” Of course, Namjoon would know Jimin needed explicit permission right now- needs the sureness of a yes or no from you.

- The sight that awaits Namjoon and Jimin in the living room is one that warms both of their hearts. You and Yoongi sitting side by side in front of the television. you’re listing into Yoongi sleepily head on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttering against your cheek adorably. Yoongi sends Namjoon a panicked look which means “please save me from her she’s being needy” but at least Yoongi isn’t shaking and going all panicky.

- With a word from Namjoon you wake, sitting up straight and yawning, taking in Jimin hovering on the steps, your smile sleepy and a little dopy. Your eyes still half-closed still looking soft and an inch from resting as you need.

- Namjoon’s hand rubs up and down your swollen exposed ankle. His voice honeyed like he doesn’t really want to wake you up. Hell Jimin would carry you up the stairs to let you rest in your own bed and not the couch even though it's barely 5 pm. It's been a long day for all of you. 

- “Hey, can Jimin take the sunroom instead of the other room?” Yoongi gives a little surprised noise, eyebrows lifting in question, you seem to share his confusion. Jimin realizes that you must have already talked about which room would be his, and whole new warmth floods him. “Are you sure? That room’s a little small.”

- “I’d like to stay in there if you’ll let me- I mean- I can go back to the barns too” maybe he’d go to the girl side this time- he’s sure they wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the male hybrids. Namjoon and Yoongi look upset that he’d even try to suggest that. “Take the sunroom Jiminie,” you say, Namjoon and Jimin watch as Yoongi’s hands shake when he reaches forward before he slowly draws his hands through your hair, and you arch into he touch. If you were a hybrid Jimin thinks you’d be purring.

- Namjoon does actually end up carrying you upstairs, despite your protests that you could do it yourself. Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Jimin finishes it for him saying, “we’ll make dinner, you should rest.” Namjoon pauses on the lower step with you in his arms, and Jimin feels something in him settle. There isn’t a little bit of you that doesn’t want him to stay here, the way you so easily give up space for Jimin to be accepted into your routine- your home.

- It’s good; it feels good to knock shoulders with Yoongi in the kitchen, the craziness of the day calmed as the cat hybrids bring the food down to the barns for everyone. 

- Taehyung stops by briefly to have a word with Namjoon- telling the elder that they have a rotating watch figured out for tonight to make sure nothing else happens. Taehyung empties out with the other cats, leaving just Jimin and Yoongi. It’s harder than it should be, but Yoongi instructs Jimin on how to do the chopping with a careful and slow demonstration while he starts on the stew.

- When Namjoon reappears a few minutes later he puts on the radio- switching it to something a little bit more his style, not kitschy pop or idealistic  questionable country music, though Jimin doesn’t like it at first listen, he hears Yoongi humming along and figures- it’s enough to have them enjoy it. Especially to see Namjoon try and fail to shake his ass. 

- The night gets even better when Jimin goes to get you from your bed, calling your name so you wake up with barely a huff as you blink at him. You look so soft Jimin can’t resist it, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your forehead. 

- You eat dinner on the porch, and the night gets better with every moment. every second Jimin realizes that he always should have been here. The love filling Jimin up just like the fresh bread and Yoongi’s stew, Namjoon and Jimin go inside halfway through the dinner to get blankets for you and Yoongi.

- Dinner reinvigorates you four, and though Jimin protests “I can just sleep in the other room tonight it’s really not a big deal” Namjoon and Yoongi shake their heads at him, though you're left out since you really can’t lift anything. 

- After dinner Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin pull down the attic stairs from the hallway, and go up to the third floor to find a bed that will fit in the sunroom. You shout and pull yoongi out of the way when Namjoon and Jimin lose their grip and the soft mattress clangs down the stairs, sliding with a soft thump. They’re more careful with the box spring.

- They shout and huff with joyful frustration when the couch gets stuck in the doorway of the sunroom. The kind of happiness that comes with a problem that you can fix- and like who you fix it with. And finally, when you fit the double bed into the space it just barely fits. You set the bed up with pillows and sheets asking Jimin again and again if he really doesn’t mind just the single bed while Namjoon and Yoongi put the green velvet couch outside in the hallway nook, just across from the bathroom.

- The first morning Jimin wakes in the sunroom is the most peaceful morning he’s ever gotten. The light comes in so early that it’s hard for him to sleep past sunrise. From all the way up here, he can see the way that the dew on the grass makes the whole field sway and sparkle like the ocean. He taps his toes against the wall as he sits up and looks out, and hears a knock at his door. A soft rap on the glass. 

- The sounds he hears below say he’s not the only one awake in the house. And still, the sight of you in your extra-large sleeping clothes and your robe makes him surprised. Though the tangled mess of your hair says you’re barely awake. Jimin slept so well that his ears hang nearly in front of his eyes, soft little floppy things that you push out of the way, Pushing back his wild hair as you do it. You have two cups of hot coffee in your hands. One, which you sit on the shelf that rings the room, and the other that you press into his hands, the warm ceramic a welcomed weight.

- Jimin helps you sit, a hand on your lower back to ease the ache. Without really thinking he guides you to sit back against his chest. It’s quiet and it’s lovely. And Jimin trails his nose down your shoulder and holds you loosely around your waist. “I forgot how nice this room is.” You say after your cup is halfway gone, Jimin’s cheek rested against your shoulder.

- “It’s so bright- I love it.” when Jimin closes his eyes he can still see the dark garage where he used to sleep- was it barely 4 months ago? Is he okay now? Is it okay to hope? Can he really count on things to be okay? To count that they won’t get bad again?

- With you in his arms, Jimin feels like it’s okay to hope for more good things.

- It feels like the right time to say it, the light spilling into the little yellow room, his tail thumping against the bed. The soft comforter that you picked out for him last night encircling you both like a halo. 

- The words are gentle, and they’re the truest Jimin’s ever said, “I love you” you smile over the edge of your coffee cup, lips soft and pink like two bright petals, happy little flowers like happy moments blooming with frequency. Every soft thing that Jimin’s ever wanted or dreamed of. Every way you could love a person- that's the way that Jimin loves you. And it feels like an unbreakable promise when you smile up at him. “I love you too Minnie.”

- And that’s how it happens. He says it again over breakfast and Namjoon barely lifts his eyebrows in wonder. But his tail betrays his attention, His tail kicking up a happy rhythm. Now that he’s said it- he feels like he doesn’t want to stop. 

- Yoongi pays the revelation a little more attention, making prolonged eye contact with jimin and stumbling around the kitchen half asleep like usual. But isn’t Yoongi the one who had taught Jimin how to love like this? That love is not really about saying it- but showing it. Yoongi- who he’s still never heard speak. and Somehow it doesn’t bother Jimin as much anymore.

- The next morning goes much like that- as does the next and the next. You spend the late nights all cuddled up together on the couches watching movies or sometimes you’ll retire to your small study room on the first floor to do some work- typing away on your computer. Calculating monthly costs, balancing your budget, submitting your paperwork on time to get funding from the state- the endless budgeting.

- Sometimes Yoongi helps, and you dictate numbers while he adds them up. Namjoon and Jimin sit on opposite ends of the couch, Jimin’s feet in Namjoon’s lap. And Jimin gets to watch the way Namjoon looks at you and Yoongi. “You really love them don’t you?” Jimin asks, worried about sounding jealous, but how could he really be jealous of that? Namjoon’s dimples are the most beautiful thing- Namjoon is the most beautiful thing when he’s happy. He nods shyly on the other edge of the couch. “Yes, so come here.”

- The aborted whine that tones out is enough to grab Yoongi’s attention when Namjoon clutches Jimin to his chest. The snake hybrid’s head appearing over the edge of the couch. The huffing sound that all of you associate with Yoongi’s laugh makes Jimin blush as Namjoon curls a strong arm around his waist. A deep rumbling in his chest similar to a purr as Jimin settles there. He can hear Namjoon’s heartbeat and ends up falling asleep to it.  

- Other evenings you’ll make smoothies with them or root beer floats, teasing Yoongi for the foam on his upper lip. Jimin finds himself sinking into this easy happiness. Now when he wakes up in the morning. He doesn’t have the ire of the others to contend with. Though he makes sure to keep up his friendships. 

- he follows Taehyung around more often now that he sees the four of you every waking moment. Taehyung and Jimin spend a few days together helping Seokjin and Hoseok clean out one of the unused barns together.

- He comes upon the two of them; that is Hoseok and Seokjin, sitting in the grass one day. The older hybrids hand laced in Hoseok’s curly hair. Taehyung murmurs to Jimin that they should just make it official already.

- He’d caught Hoseok sneaking out of the barns to head to Seokjin’s room more than once when he still lived in with the others. Since Seokjin is the only hybrid besides your little group that doesn’t stay in one of the main barns. And there were only so many places that Hoseok could be trying to go at that hour.

- They do make it official - though it takes a few days.

- It was early morning- just after breakfast and the three of you’d been buzzing with happy energy, Namjoon already half of the way out the door. Almost crashing into them where they’d waited unsure on your porch. “oh! Jin hyung! Hobi hyung!”

- Your morning plans for the usual gardening had been put on pause, Seokjin and Hoseok sitting hand in hand at the prep table while your hybrids try not to listen in. Namjoon doesn’t even bother - just stands behind you and rubs your shoulders while you listen. Their hands bound over the top of the table.

- “We’d do all of the work ourselves, and you know I wouldn’t ask you for any money for it- we want to do it on our own” Jin smiles, and you’ve never seen such a gently happy expression on his face. Next to him- the otter sits closer. Looking up at Jin like there isn’t anything more precious than he could hold in his hands. And while their love hadn’t completely escaped your notice- this is still a surprise.

- Seokjin makes a fair amount of money selling his yarns and other knitted goods from the alpacas and the sheep. You’d always been firm that he should keep the money he makes from it for himself and not give it to you to put into the farm. The same way you let the bear hybrids keep the money they make from harvesting the honey. You don’t own them- they’re their own people.

- One of the first things that Seokjin had bought with his money was a cellphone, and he and Hoseok excitedly show you ideas for tiny homes on Pinterest, boards of colorful little new England style cabins, loft beds, and micro-fridges. “We already have one in mind- you know the little cabin by the river?”

- Namjoon pipes up “you mean the old chicken coop? We can build you something nicer- the roof of that one is shot though- you’ll need an extra hand,” you look at their plans, careful doodles, and color swatches, nodding. “we’ll help you, of course, we’ll help you both.”

- And that’s how Seokjin and Hoseok had started work on their home. A separate place away from the rest of the farm for just the two of them to get some privacy. Though it's still on your property; neither of them has any sort of desire to ever leave the farm or each other now that they’ve found their mate.

- The house isn’t more than 200 square feet. And the roof does need a fair bit of work. But it’s not just a chicken coop like Namjoon had said, it’s got nice bones and a good foundation. It’s close enough to the animal barns where Seokjin will still be able to check on the animals every morning, but closer to the river.

- You don’t realize the significance of this until you’re helping them one day, Namjoon, Yoongi making quick work of some loose floorboards and the one wall that needs to be replaced. While Jimin and hoseok watch on- deemed a little too clumsy to help with some of the work. They look for wood-burning stoves on craigslist and other things that they’ll need to make the house complete. 

- Seokjin takes a moment, coming to your side to get some of your offered lemonade, his hair tied back with a bandana. Sipping at it as he looks at Hoseok and Jimin. their feet dangling over the edge of the streambed. “He finds it calming- he can’t sleep without the ocean. That’s how I first noticed him- I caught him sneaking out one night just to listen to the running water.” Seokjin had confessed to you, watching Jimin and hoseok giggle at paint names as they flip through a color swatch book. A far cry away from how they’d once been. 

- This little cabin is certainly close enough, a mere ten feet from the shore of the stream. And with all the windows open you can hear the babbling brook and the sound of the birds in the forest. Before they retire to Seokjin’s room above the stables. Both Hoseok and Seokjin stand in the cabin, taking their shoes off to feel the floor below them and think- this is it- this is our home. Holding each other close while they listen. Even if it will take another few months to get it truly in livable condition- to set the walls with insulation and electricity. This will be their home.

- But first, they cleaned it out. The whole bottom floor filled with dusty jam jars and weird bottles that Seokjin thinks must have been for moonshine. The next day- Jimin finds a few of the glass bottles have made the way into his new room. As Namjoon struggles to put together his new dresser, and Yoongi takes It over after Namjoon lets out his 5th frustrated sigh. They’re cleaned and polished, a small little rainbow of glass, filled with water and flowers that you pick with Jimin. 

- Every morning you bring him coffee in his room. And it slowly progresses from there, sometimes you just leave it and let him sleep. Other mornings. Jimin gets to wake up with you in his arms. Watching him or cuddling him close. He Wakes to a press of lips against his forehead and your hands in his hair. 

- His body always knows before he wakes. He’ll wake to find himself nuzzled close, or pulling you closer with greedy hands. He feels greedy with you now that he can have you every morning, though Namjoon gets the evenings. 

- And when he falls asleep at night his sheets smell like you, like peaches and cream. And then one morning he wakes pressed chest to chest with you. Your baby bump taking up significant space on Jimin’s tiny bed. And without thinking, He tilts his face forward. Kissing you softly and simply. Pulling away, whispering good morning. The pink in your cheeks says you’re shocked, but you pick up like it’s nothing The same way you took his confession.

- Kissing you is nothing like kissing Yoongi- at least not at first. It starts slow- just the simple press of softness against softness, lip to lip, and breath to breath. Until Jimin gets the hot feeling in his mouth and both of you open your lips and start to get a little lost in each other.

- The kind of kiss that makes Jimin want to reach out and hold onto you and never ever let you leave this bed. The kind of kiss that takes both of you apart gently and slowly and so carefully. Has him growing hard in his pants more than once. But you’re both shy- both so scared of pushing this any farther before the timing is right.

- Sometimes, Jimin will wake to you in his bed and Namjoon smiling softly at both of you from the door. “You know- you could always just sleep in our bed.” and Jimin knows that Namjoon might be just the tiniest bit jealous. Jimin has been stealing you away in the mornings after all- and it must be hard for him not to snuggle his mate every goddamn day especially with how soft and needy you smell. It’s so hard to leave the bed some days.

- There are more kisses after that before you go up to bed at night. Yoongi and Namjoon stretched out on the couch, Namjoon prattling on about how inaccurate a movie is while Yoongi indulges him and nods along. You kiss Jimin on the steps, winding your arms around his neck so sweetly, Yoongi wolf whistles and Namjoon chortles, “get a room!”

- But when Jimin looks over Namjoon just winks at him, and keeps talking. Like it’s nothing to kiss you so sweetly and normal to do it in front of them. There are no secrets between the four of you. Maybe there are things that are left unsaid and uncommunicated- but there are no secrets. 

- And that’s how Jimin first starts to fall into you. Easy and simple, like kisses and coffee in the morning. And Jimin loves everyone. Loves you so much sometimes it feels like his heart is going to break with it all.

- Jimin wishes his wanting stopped with the kisses, but it doesn’t, if anything it only grows. An ache in his jaw that wants to bite and consume like that moment with the kisses and Yoongi- he wants to kiss you deeper and deeper but it never ends up going that way. Not even when your bare thighs brush him in the morning and Jimin can tell you’re only wearing underwear underneath the shirt that smells so much like Namjoon.

- Jimin smells you on Namjoon, smells Namjoon on you, and wants and wants and wants. It’s worse on the mornings that you’re a little late coming to Jimin’s bed, and on the ones where you come in smelling undeniably like Yoongi too. And Jimin can’t fathom what it means and isn’t brave enough to ask.

- He asks Taehyung what it could mean- confessing it all in a rush one afternoon while they process some of the honey. Heating up the wax in the kitchen. Tae just laughs at him. “Are you sure they’re not all together? I mean- they are your pack Jiminie and he’s lived there longer than you have.” Yoongi has lived in your home longer. And it stands to reason if you and Namjoon have invited Jimin to your bed, that you might have invited Yoongi too.

- But Jimin doesn’t know for sure until one morning he wakes restless, his bed vacant. He can hear soft steps in your room. But when he peers down the hall, he’s shocked to find Yoongi softly closing the door behind him. His hair looks a little ruffled, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips as he slinks off to his own bedroom.

- You’re not the only one bed-hopping. And Jimin thinks about what it might mean. Yoongi hasn’t come to Jimin’s room. And he thinks back to the way Yoongi kissed him like it was the best and the worst, the sweetest but most forbidden thing. Maybe he’s just too nervous.

- Yoongi stays up late with Jimin, and they can both hear and smell the arousal that shoots down the stairs from both of you. Jimin has smelt it more than once by now, on you or on the air that bacons them- as members of the same pack to the same place. Jimin wonders how Yoongi handles it. Because it has Jimin growing half hard in his pajama pants, shifting on the couch needy. Yoongi’s too from the looks of it- but the snake never makes a move. Your moans echo from upstairs, their sensitive hybrid ears can hear every word that you share. And Jimin can almost taste you on the air.

- Namjoon’s gentle teasing growl is faint as is his words, “do you want them to hear you, my love? is that why you’re being so loud?- or is this” Namjoon pauses, and a wet sound fills the silence, “just too much for you?” 

- At night, when you’re not there, Jimin bites the pillow and lets his own hands wander. Feels guilty and not guilty at all when you end up in bed with him the next morning, and he licks at the hickeys on your neck left there by Namjoon’s mouth, tasting his alpha on your skin and on your lips. 

- Jimin goes to bed one evening alone, and lies listless for a moment before he realizes how much he wants to fall asleep next to you too- Namjoon too. How many times had Namjoon invited Jimin to stay in your room? How many times had he woken up to you by now? He knows the other room isn’t off limits and right now. His body shivers with need, for touches and touches, any that you’d give him. He tells himself he’s just looking for a goodnight kiss as he gets up and walks to your door, the house quiet so late in the evening.

- It shouldn’t feel so tremulous when Jimin walks to your room, to see the warm yellow light leaking through the door. Already cracked and open a few inches letting the noise of you and Namjoon spill out. The giggles he can hear, your voice, sounding the way you do when you smile. And then, a bitten-off moan.

- Jimin can’t stop himself from looking through the crack in the door- even though he knows it’s a private moment, that he really shouldn’t. You’re sitting in-between Namjoon’s legs on the edge of the bed. Jimin’s alphas mouth is firmly attached to your neck, licking and biting and sucking in a way that has Jimin riveted.

- But what really grabs his better judgment by the balls is the way that he can see the silhouette of your body through the large white shirt of Namjoon’s. The shirt so thin and well worn that jimin can see the shadow of your nipples and the hard outline that Namjoon’s hands smooth over, teasing them to a stiff peak. it has Jimin’s mouth-watering. Namjoon’s deep voice crooning as his hands pull at the hem over your baby bump, “let me see you, darling.”

- You’d complained to Jimin the other day that this far into your pregnancy none of your clothes were fitting comfortably anymore, and he can see the supple swell of your stomach and the generous curves of your body. Jimin can’t help but drink in, and stare at hungrily, swallowing thickly. A low whine of want building in his throat.

- He knows it’s wrong to be jealous, but he can’t help it. The feeling growing in his gut as he watches Namjoon pull you back to bed despite your protests. Namjoon looks deliciously good too; miles of his golden skin on display, his rippling thigh muscles exposed. Hair sleep or sex ruffled (Jimin can’t tell the difference)

- “Love I have to pee” you whine, Namjoon’s arms still ensnare your waist and he answers only with a playful growl as he hides his head in your shoulder. His hands roaming those curves like Jimin dreams of doing, Namjoon’s tail thudding against the plush comforter.

- You sigh, your head tilted up, one of your arms back behind you to tug at Namjoon’s hair, swollen pink lips parting in a sigh. He shouldn’t be watching this- this isn’t meant for him to see, this is intimate. He backs up and immediately hits a warm wide chest. “Yoongi!” Jimin squeaks, conscious enough to be quiet, his cheeks flaming as he’s caught.

- The snake hybrid raises an eyebrow in question. Yoongi looks ruffled, his hair messy from sleep. And it seems Jimin isn’t the only one who had plans on sneaking into your room so late at night. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink in the half-light.

- Yoongi leans in, nose so close to Jimin’s throat- where his scent is the strongest and Jimin almost flinches when he realizes how strung out and aroused he smells. Yoongi’s rippling growl makes Jimin’s legs week. 

- You’ve suddenly fallen silent in the other room; exchanging soft words that Jimin can’t hear. “I was just going to…” Jimin searches for a reason, to remember why he was here in the first place. His cheeks absolutely flaming, but before he can find a good reason to why he’s listening in and being quite the voyeur Namjoon speaks up from inside your bedroom. 

- “Jimin, Yoongi” not a question, but a command. Yoongi reaches around Jimin to push the door fully open so that both of you can see the two of them. “You can come in,” you say.

- Jimin has never been redder than he has been right now. Seeing you and Namjoon in your bed, obviously, about to- Jimin gulps audibly. “You don’t have to watch from the hallway” Namjoon teases. “You can watch from in here” Jimin is actually going to pass out, and you sense this, smacking Namjoon lightly on the arm. “Don’t tease him Joonie.”

- “Is it really okay if I-“ Jimin feels tongue-tied, his mind hazy with the smell of both of you, the pheromones that his sensitive nose can pick up on the smell of your slick, and Jimin’s mouth is suddenly so so wet. “I don’t want-“ Jimin breaks off; trying to keep his gaze averted, but can’t resist peeking. “I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable.”

- Jimin sees out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon’s hands rubbing up and down your waist, and he wants to look, wants to see- but can’t. Keeps his eyes averted. “You don’t Jiminie- I” you break off when Namjoon’s hand travels further south. Your other puppy has absolutely no problem trying to distract you. Jimin can’t see exactly what Namjoon’s hands are doing but your chest jumps. And he realizes he’s staring again. 

-“If you’re going to look- you might as well help me take care of her too” Jimin has never heard Namjoon’s voice sound so guttural, and a look at Yoongi reveals his pink cheeks too. “unless you just want to watch like Yoongi does, that's fine too” 

- Jimin sends yoongi an accusatory glance, and the snake hybrid just shrugs at him. leveling him with a dedicatory look. well, Minnie- which are you going to choose?

- “I want- I want” jimin cant get the words out. He knows he doesn't want to leave. but is it really okay if he- is he really allowed to touch you? to make you smell like him the way that Namjoon does? Claiming you in that way. “jiminie- you can- I want you too-” your words are so quiet, face so warm. And it makes Jimin whine- looking to Namjoon for guidance. Imploring him to make the choice- to take the hint because Jimin just needs a little push. And from the looks of it so do you. 

- “You’re both obviously too shy to get it done- so let me take the reigns okay?” Namjoon counters to the silence. Yoongi is still standing behind Jimin, a step closer than should be necessary, and you give them both a shy, wide-eyed look. Like you’re checking to see that this wants it too. Jimin nods, short, jerky, unable to tear his eyes away from your face to see Namjoon’s expression until the elder shifts.

- Yoongi crosses to the other side of the room where a green velvet chair sits, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Whereas Jimin and Namjoon are always a little too soft looking to be threatening. Yoongi eyes the three of you like he’s some sort of predator. Tongue flicking out to lick at his lip. Like he can taste what Jimin can smell- the four of you- the smells of your arousals mixing together. Something satisfying and musky and undeniably pack that makes Yoongi's every instinct sing.

- Jimin has always appreciated Namjoon’s body, the strength there. In many ways he’s the stereotypical alpha; the strength in his arms and in his chest, his collarbones strong and chiseled, but he’s anything but cocky. There is someone so genuine about how unconcerned Namjoon is with his own body, and jimin can’t help but find his confidence attractive. 

- Namjoon lounges back against his hands, And the way he watches Jimin watch both of you lets Jimin know that it’s okay to look his fill. Yoongi too, the low rippling growl he lets out fills the room, makes you feel hot all over as his eyes roam you, Namjoon, and Jimin- the pretty picture you both paint.

- You sit between Namjoon’s legs, his hands on either side of your inner thigh parting your legs gently to show your wetness to Jimin. You make an aborted noise as you realize what he’s doing. All of you swollen and bear for him and nothing to cover you but Namjoon’s shirt and that just barely hiding the tone of your skin behind the creamy white fabric. You’re not wearing any underwear.

- Your pink core trembles a little, your hand gripping Namjoon’s forearm as he grins, drunk on the feel of you in his hands as he squeezed your thighs. Namjoon goes a step further Reaching down to glide a thumb across your wetness. Making you jerk in his hold as he hits the little sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your cunt, glistening wet and ready. 

- “Can you believe it?” he says, his voice a blown-out growl. “So full and still ready for us?” beside Jimin, Yoongi’s pupils are blown, his body jerking as he shifts in his chair, hips on the edge.

- You’re wet and dripping. Your face is hot as you look at him, standing there in the middle of the room, fully clothed while you and Namjoon are intimately bare. Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from you. You smell so ripe and for the taking.

- “You can come closer- you can touch Minnie, it’s okay,” Namjoon says it that way, but his eyes are on Yoongi, gliding down his hips to the bulge in his pants. Namjoon knows he won’t come closer- even if he really wants yoongi too. And Jimin sees that pain him- just for a moment before he puts his chin out in his direction. It’s okay- anything that Yoongi wants, whatever level he feels he can partake in this- it’s okay. Jimin wonders how Yoongi can handle it and hold himself back; how he can handle the dizzying rush of pheromones and not come closer.

- Yoongi settles, his eyes hazy and his legs spread to make room for his hands that touch with purpose. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- at him, his hands slowly smoothing up and over the bulge in his pants or at you. The way you drink in every line of Yoongi, stretched out in his tight pants. A simple hand at your throat, Namjoon rolling his fingers down from your chin to your collarbones. “Let's put on a show for him yeah? Is that what you want Yoongi?”

- Yoongi’s tongue is pink as it swipes across his lips, he nods. In a moment, Jimin feels a little unsure, but that instantly dissipates as Namjoon gestures for him to come forward.

- He’s never been touched or touched another in this way- not with love anyway. All of the small touches you’ve given him, hands on your shoulders the small of your back, felt nothing like this. His fingers reaching out, rounding on the edge of your knee experimentally. Waiting to see your reaction to make sure what he’s doing is okay. Namjoon’s tail starts up it’s wagging behind you. his hands shake with too warm palm smoothing over skin he’s never seen let alone been allowed to touch. He looks at you and feels positively ravenous, licking his lips.

- Namjoon trails a kiss down your neck and Jimin can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sink into the skin there too. In a moment- he’s not sure if he’d rather be you being bitten or be Namjoon biting you on the neck. You probably don’t get the significance of it quite yet but Jimin- Jimin wants to be on the receiving end of that mark. To bear the mark of an alpha means to be under their protection.

- He wants all of it- all of your sweet looking soft and supple swells. Your body that’s accommodated the life within you so well and deserves a little appreciation. Anything, everything, Jimin and Namjoon will gladly provide. And Yoongi will be content to look. Not ready quite yet to be apart of this the way Jimin is. But it makes you feel hot all over, his piercing eyes on every movement. Barely even blinking.

- Jimin doesn’t know how to be the same sultry tempter that Namjoon is- but at the very least he can follow his lead. Jimin hasn’t had many sultry kisses- the ones you’d shared in your bedroom done with less intent, but he hopes that these can be just as satisfying. He leans in close to you, a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to steady himself as he leans down. 

- The kiss is a gentle thing that Jimin knows won’t hurt. You’d never hurt him- because you’re like him. His softness and sweetness is just like yours. Both shy and honest- the genuine passion that overflows too easy. Like a hurricane filling a teacup.

- You know to go slow, and Jimin lets Namjoon- his alpha, (a whole rush goes down his spine at the idea of it) take the reigns. Feeling a comforting protective feeling wash over him as your lips play together. You suck on one of his lower lips, plush and soft between yours, and hasten a soft bite that has Jimin gasping, jerking forward to rest both hands of his on your upper thighs. Namjoon lets them go- lets you settle in between both of them.

 - He pulls away with a start. “I want both of you- please just- please- let me” you’re already pulling at the edge of his shirt. You’d seen his softness here and there too, but now, having him underneath the palm of your hands feels even better. Jimin has gained weight since he got to the farm yes- but he’s also put on more muscle than anything else, enough protein and hard work has left him soft but with clean edges, lines on his hips that point invitingly south. Dimples that you sink your fingers into.

- You hover there, skimming your hands along them, Namjoon reaching out from behind you to press a flat hand to Jimin’s pelvis, his flannel pajama pants still on, but still, even you can feel the way his abdominal muscles clench at the slightest touch. Even as you tug, give a pleading little whine, Jimin is so so weak to all of you. Jimin takes off his pants so quickly that he almost trips and falls into you, and a quiet chuckles and quick look says that Namjoon is equally as endeared by Jimin’s eagerness as you are. Even Yoongi is grinning.

- Yoongi makes a noise too and all of you look over, he’s got his pants pulled down his hips too, hands slowly teasing at the head of his cock hidden by his boxers. A wet spot there that makes jimin lick his lips. One-day Jimin will earn Yoongi’s trust enough to get his mouth on that length. Yoongi juts his chin out- an invitation to continue.

- Jimin wonders how often you’ve done this before with Yoongi- if this is only the second or third time. The question hovers on the tip of his tongue, struck out of his mind when you put your hands on him and touch him properly. Behind you Namjoon shifts, finally showing that he’s bare too- not even wearing underwear.

- A first look says yes, Namjoon is a little longer than Jimin is. But he’s far thicker than Namjoon and that small blessing in itself has a whole new kind of heat thinning in his gut. Especially when Namjoon stands and measures, going hip to hip with Jimin so that the head of his cock touches Jimin’s stomach. The older hybrid reaching out to skim his large hand over his head. Jimin’s already wet and sensitive gasping at how Namjoon’s hands- so big, fail to cover all of him.

- “I really shouldn’t call you puppy” he hastens with a chuckle, tugging at jimin’s erection, and Jimin can’t help but whine and pant. Namjoon’s mouth skims down and over Jimin’s shoulder, the contact lighting sparks under his skin with how sensitive he feels, and yet- it's still not where he wants it, Jimin feels vacant his mouth unclaimed until you stand too.

- This time you tug Jimin down with a hand in his hair, running your fingers over his ears the same moment that Namjoon bites down on his neck and pulls, teasing over the head of his cock. and it’s too much- too much so soon- making Jimin go soft and pliant as Namjoon sucks jimin’s skin between his teeth. Jimin doesn't know why the edge of a high rises so quickly only that it does and leaves his knees weak- almost giving out at the weight of all the pleasure. 

- To Jimin’s credit- he only cums a little- maybe not a full orgasm from just that. The shame and humiliation of Cumming so early makes him want to hide his face in you and hide he does. Especially when Namjoon lifts his hand up to look at Jimin’s release, chuckles, and licks it.

- He collapses into your front, breathing heavily already. The waves of your sweet arousal washing over him, his nose feels so sensitive he wants to bury it in your heat and breathe in deep, his whole body feels sensitive as Namjoon- now behind Jimin, smoothed his hands up and down his sides, somehow knowing he was a little too overwhelmed by so much so quick.

- He hopes that’s not weird- he has a feeling he’s just a little too touch starved not to get wound up. He doesn’t want this to be over that fast, wants to savor every moment. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, but you and Namjoon are quick to soothe him.

- “It’s nothing to be ashamed about Minnie baby, you’re just a little sensitive” Jimin loves that- that nickname falling from your mouth as your touches get slower. more sensual and loving so they don’t overwhelm him so fast. He can tell you and Namjoon and maybe Yoongi are sharing a glance, communicating silently about Jimin- but it doesn’t make him feel annoyed. It just makes him feel cared for. 

- Jimin knows he could go again, isn’t finished, he’s still rock hard, cock bobbing and twitching against his stomach. He just needs a moment to calm down. 

- You guide him to sit back up against the bed and he lies, half in your lap and half to the side. Shifting closer to you with his nose pressed to your neck, licking and sucking to his heart's content. Leaving his bruises right next to Namjoon’s. 

- You’re used to the way that Namjoon gets after an orgasm, his more animal instincts closer to the surface. Sometimes he even fails to speak with words, instead favoring whines and growls. It doesn't surprise you at all that Jimin would fall into a similar headspace the second he got overwhelmed. He laps at your skin, tail thumping as his ears twitch. His nose drawing small circles. The instincts in him pulling him lower as Namjoon rubs up and down his back soothingly.

- Jimin doesn’t realize where he’s ended up until your soft laugh and Namjoon’s chuckle join in tandem. “I take it back- you’re a puppy.” Jimin goes absolutely bright red as he opens his eyes and realizes that he’s been nosing at your breasts, the origin for your milky sweet scent.

- “Can I- have a taste?” he asks. And you turn hot for a whole different reason. you push him off a little, and Jimin wants to whine before he realizes that you’re finally taking off your shirt. and /oh/ you’re so soft looking. Your chest ample and swollen- you look absolutely perfect.

- “Sure but- uhm- I’m- just don’t be surprised if I-” you’re stuttering and shy and Namjoon just leans over, pulling lightly at your sensitive nipples so that Jimin can see for himself. He really is good at making sure you guys don’t get too shy to continue, he’s a good alpha.

- At the sight of a small bead of milk tugged forward by Namjoon’s hand Jimin growls, He tugs a little more and a single droplet travels down your sternum. You exhale as you feel the full heavy feeling that your breasts have taken on these past few weeks starts to ease a little.

- Jimin notices your discomfort the way you shift and doesn’t think- his instincts taking over before he leans forward and hastens a lick. taking the droplet from your skin into his mouth and licking up- so that he doesn't waste a drop. his plush lips melt around your nipple and he closes his eyes- savoring it. It only takes a small suck for your milk to really come in, and you shift instantly under Jimin's hands, throwing your head back with a sigh as the ache eases. Jimin growls and pulls you forward by a hand underneath your back, jostling you in his eagerness.

- You taste so sweet, the fatty liquid sliding down his throat as he suckles eagerly. Namjoon buries his fingers into your hair, pulling you up to kiss him but Jimin isn’t paying attention- can’t concentrate on anything other than the smooth taste of you sliding over his tongue as he sucks and sucks and sucks. the taste of you- the cream to your peaches and cream scent sliding like ambrosia over his tongue. 

- Jimin may not be talkative- brought down to his lower basic instincts- but he does make noise. His tail wagging behind him Hitting Namjoon’s, a whine mixing with a growl. Eyes rolling back into his head- he can’t help it you just taste so fucking good. 

- You can’t concentrate on Namjoon’s kiss either; your mouth open and a little sloppy, Namjoon levels you with a hot look. “What do you say lovely? Does she taste as good as she smells?” Jimin is so drunk on you that he barely even hears Namjoon. His teeth nip a little, you hissing a little.

- Namjoon tugs on Jimin’s hair and the other hybrid growls. It’s a Feral and angry sound- anything that would take him away from your sweet taste would have jimin angry. It’s so unexpected- that he would be so possessive- that Namjoon actually laughs. 

- You do too, though it’s quickly interrupted by a moan when Jimin pauses his sucking to lave a lick against your nipple. Namjoon holds him too far away for him to properly suck. “Gentle puppy” Jimin’s hands grip underneath your breasts, possessively clinging to you. whining at Namjoon. begging his alpha to let him go back. Namjoon lets Jimin tug his own hair before he guides his head back to you. 

- Namjoon keeps your eye contact until the second he lowers to suck too. Having both of them at the same time overwhelms you. Especially when you look past their heads and see Yoongi licking his lips too. Stroking his red cock slowly and carefully. The head is already red, and you can tell from the way he pulls off that he’d edging himself. Hips shaking every time he senses his touches. And you wonder if he wants to cum with you. His throat bobbing every time his tongue darts out.

- Having both their mouths on you makes you keen. And when Namjoon guides Jimin’s hand to your cunt you lose it- moaning, panting their names and gripping at their heads, pulling their hair. Jimin’s hands are sloppy as they grip and touch. Hungrily exploring your thighs. Namjoon’s a little more guided, paying special attention to your entrance. When he realizes Jimin’s gotten distracted feeling up your thighs and ass he guides Jimin so finger you, smooth fingertips rubbing at your walls in time with his sucks, while Namjoon rubs smooth circles against your clit.

 - You time the rolls of your hips with Yoongi’s as he shallowly fucks his hand.

- You cum like that, both their hands on you, and Yoongi’s growl, Namjoon’s head snap up. “You can cum Yoongi” Namjoon commands, with a fucked out chuckle. Your milk caught in one of his dimples. Yoongi’s hands are tight around the knot at the base of his cock, cum dripping down around his wrist, his head thrown back. Lazily spread out, his limbs turned to jelly.

- To Yoongi- it doesn't feel awkward to have cum so soon. If anything the sheer intimacy of it all- knowing that he can be vulnerable and fucked out in front of both of you- makes him feel even hazier. And just because he’s cum- doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the sight of you three all tangled together.

- Jimin’s hardness pokes at your thigh as he straddles it. Rocking against you in time with his sucks. hands returning to their appreciation of your thighs once you’ve cum, head a little clearer. Namjoon is equally as hard and waiting. Namjoon groans as one of your hands finds his cock. 

- You’re used to the way he likes it by now, concentrating your attention on his head. Your other less dominant hand still makes Jimin jerk. Fucking into the tight circle of your hand that can’t fit around the entirety of his cock but is more than enough to tease his head until he’s throbbing.

- Jimin gives one last bite as your milk peters off; no more left and your other breast rightfully as drained, pulling away and licking at his lips. He’s so high on the taste of you, the smell of you, all of you that he barely realizes he’s grinding against your thigh or into your hand. Namjoon stills your hand against him when he gets close. Your thighs shake as Namjoon guides both of you to sit back; pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jimin’s, and then your tummy.

- “Why don’t you watch and see how it’s done puppy” Jimin gets off, sitting on his knees to the side and resists the urge to touch. Namjoon gives him a look and you look up from where you lie against the bed, grinning at him. but he’s obedient, doesn't touch, and just watches to learn. 

- “Would you cum again if I called you good b-” Jimin flushes, scrambling to get a hand over your mouth and stop you from finishing that sentence as his cock twitches and dribbles pre-cum onto the blanket. Face flaming as you laugh against his palm. “Yes- so please don’t I just want to-” Jimin whines. the humiliation making him hornier somehow. Yoongi’s rueful grin and Namjoon's expectant expression that says Jimin is just the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

- It’s somewhat of an honesty thing too- because you know Jimin- you know him so well enough to tease him and have it not be awkward but arousing- knowing just the right words to say to get him riled up. To prove to you that he can be good- can learn how to fuck you well without cumming (again) “why don’t you help me hold her Minnie.”  

- Namjoon’s smirk is happy and a little fucked out as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed by your ankles, your laughter turning into a giggle. Knowing how Namjoon loves to man handle you. And you’d be lying if his strength- the fact that he can still lift you without issue even this far into your pregnancy wasn’t a little bit of a turn on. 

- Namjoon gently manhandles you into the position he wants, you stretched out against the sheets, your nipples all puffy and pink from the way Namjoon and jimin mercilessly handled you earlier. A bruise forming where Jimin was a little rough, half-circles from his mouth. 

- Namjoon guides you to hold your hands above your head, guiding your wrists into Jimin’s to hold you there, his hands lacing with yours, bending down to kiss you. You gasp into Jimin’s mouth at the first push of Namjoon into your dripping cunt. The push and pull of his hips. It’s as erotic as it is sweet, Jimin presses his hips to the bed to relieve some of the aches but does not rut forward. And a look from Namjoon tells him to be careful- he’ll allow that- but the next time Jimin cums Namjoon wants it to be by his command.

- “You see Minnie- she’s not the biggest fan of a rough fuck- we’ve got to be gentle with her see, but as long as you make them deep and long she likes it” Namjoon shows Jimin and below Them, you moan. Lacing your fingers with Jimin's. 

- There is a certain unspoken dominance between Namjoon and the other hybrids. You too- though that has less to do with scent and the instinctual pull that you feel to be good for him. Jimin can’t get a good handle on why exactly he wants to do everything the elder says only that the idea of Namjoon being upset with him right now sends a jolt of fear all the way to the end of his tail.

- When Namjoon cums it’s with a low groan, and you squirting weakly around his cock. Your thighs are shaking and Namjoon leans close to kiss you through you high, then leans up to kiss Jimin too in reward for being patient. 

- You’re panting, body humming with pleasure as you feel namjoon’s knot press just outside your entrance, bulging so much that his rocking rubs against your clit. Namjoon is careful to fist his knot in his hand, meant to lock him and his partner in place to ensure a pregnancy would take place. If you were a hybrid you would be keening for his knot, probably crying for it. But as it is you’re a little glad he didn’t decide to stretch you out on it today. 

- You’re sure that the next time you cum your eyes are going to roll back. And you might pass out. It’s happened before. The first night you and Namjoon ever let Yoongi watch you. Namjoon had so thoroughly put you through your paces that you’d collapsed, and come to with two very panicked hybrids standing over you.

- Especially because it would have taken several long minutes to go down and Jimin is hard and aching for you. Namjoon is a good and patient alpha; he’ll let Jimin knot you tonight. Namjoon gives his knot one final squeeze before he gestures for Jimin. He lets go of your hands unwillingly, joining Namjoon at the edge of the bed.

- Namjoon pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed, the movement so sudden that it makes you giggle. You’re a little fucked out, but it only makes your hybrids endeared. You close your eyes as Namjoon manhandles you into place, sighing out a “fuck” as he sees you below him. god- Namjoon loves you so much and you can feel it in every touch. 

- He hitches your legs up and asks you to hold them, hands gripping underneath your knees. Keeping you bare for all of them. Jimin’s mouth waters when he sees your wet and messy cunt, a little bit of Namjoon’s cum dripping out of your entrance.

- Fuck just getting his mouth on Yoongi; Jimin wants to get his mouth on all of you. Huh- maybe he has some sort of oral fixation. Jimin is so caught up in imagining it he barely processes Namjoon stepping away, tugging jimin in close and positioning himself behind the other dog hybrid, Namjoon’s knot and wet cock presses up against Jimin’s ass as Namjoon uses his hands to guide jimin into your heat. 

- Jimin is so thick. So big compared to your entrance, the stretch doesn't burn after Namjoon but you do feel full- so deliciously full that it makes you gasp and grip jimin's shoulder, letting your leg fall against his hip. 

-  You're so wet and warm; Jimin has to slow down immediately. whining loud in the quiet room. “Alpha- I can’t-” namjoon's hand forms a vice around the base of his cock, keeping him from cumming. “You can- and you will Jimin” Weather it’s your wetness or Namjoon’s cum that makes the slide inside of you so slick. He can only thrust forward so far before his stomach makes contact with your baby bump, and the slide, the simple push of your hips against his makes him feel tingly all over.

- “Fuck you feel so good,” Jimin pants out, and you smile, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face and over his ears, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down to his tail. Maybe it’s because he’s been wound up so much, or because you’re still tightening with the last thrum of your orgasm that makes Jimin come so easily. 

- He’s only been trusting inside of you for a few minutes before he feels his knot start to swell, pulsating against namjoons fingers and ready to spill inside. namjoon lets him go and Jimin can barely keep himself from getting rough with you. though he won’t- would never dream of hurting you. It feels nice to be filled by him, and you feel yourself brought to the edge again by his gentleness- he doesn’t have to thrust quickly for it to feel good- just being this close- as close as you two can get to each other is enough.  

- It’s not Jimin’s first time having sex. But for all intents and purposes. You’re the only ones it matters for. He sends a panicked look in Namjoon’s direction, unsure if he’ll be able to hold off. His hands shaking where they sit, entwined with yours. Body crouched as close as he can to you. Through the entirety of it- Namjoon has been stroking up and down his back, and he grips his hips now- guiding him through each thrust to make them less sloppy.  “Alpha- alpha please-“  

- “You can cum Jimin, make sure you knot her.” At his alphas command Jimin cums with a shout. Namjoon pressed to his back and Yoongi hissing over his shoulder. Watching every thrust with baited breath. namjoon pushes jimin’s hips inside at just the right moment and you twitch as he knots you. feeling him swell inside you more than should be possible entrance pulsating in time with his twitches. jimin cumming into you with squirts and squirts of warmth as you milk his knot.

- You squirt weakly- and it drips down around his cock and makes it even wetter if that’s even possible, no doubt leaving a puddle against your bed. you hold jimin close and he wants to collapse against you but doesn't because of namjoon holding him around the middle, guiding you to safely sit to the side, giving your little baby bump a little loving rub. “Gotta keep the bun safe minnie” namjoon chides. “Sorry hyung just- so good” Jimin slurs. eyes still rolling back in his head as he just keeps Cumming. 

- “Can I call you good boy now?” you tease, and jimin whines again predictably as both namjoon and yoongi nodd. Jimin’s knot does not stay inflated as long as namjoon’s does. starting to shrink after a few minutes once he stops cumming really. though the occasional spasm of your walls around him has him tensing again. 

- When its gone down fully he makes to pull out but namjoon catches his hips again, and tells him to wait. A shiver goes down his spine as yoongi walks over to watch. your leg flopping to the side, open so that he can see, though you grumble and cover your flaming face. it might be a little embarrassing- but it’s also really fucking hot- the way they like to see how much they’ve wrecked you- claimed you in a way they only could.  

- jimin doesn't understand until he sees namjoon and yoongi’s ravenous expressions, the way they lick their lips. it’s only then that namjoon carefully guides jimin to pull out. 

- the rush of cum is immediate, forced out of your entrance by your lingering orgasam makeing you clench and force their cum out of you. there's so much of it, dripping down your thigh thick and viscous and so so messy. 

- jimin is so overwhelmed, as his cock keeps dripping. he flops back onto the bed after a second, close enough to you to be wrapped in your arms, both of you huffing with labored breathes, Namjoon gripping hard around his waist and guiding him into the comfort of the bed and your arms. Hands splayed wide on Jimin’s trembling stomach. Pinching at Jimin’s knot for a moment. And the whole room spins.  

- Jimin is so pretty when he arches his back to try and get away from the over stimulation, especially when your hand joints namjoons and you both squeeze- head thrown back in ecstasy, his plush lips parted with his pants. “Stop fuck- too much” your hands are off of him the second he says it. Jimin’s eyes are closed, as you lean in and kiss at his neck. “Sorry puppy” he hears the older alpha chime- Jimin whines, his whole body turned to jelly.

- You’re barely sighing and settling back into the sheets, head tilted to get a sloppy fucked out kiss from Namjoon. Yoongi lingers. And you look up at him expectantly. His cock is still hard and curving against his stomach.Somewhere between jimin and Namjoon in thickness and length but ribbed with veins that stick out like the ones on the back of his hands.

- You think he’s going to mount you too (your deepest darkest fantasy’s hope that he might. You have to admit that you like the idea of one of them going one after another, Cumming in you, making you feel full and well fucked. You’re certain that one day- if they still want this- if they want to keep doing this with you. You’ll have that, each of them knotting you and filling you up- breeding you and making sure they knock you up again. human hybrid pregnancies are so rare they’re practically non-existent, but you know if there where any that would manage it it would be these three.)

- jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull when he smells yoongi closer, nostrils flaring, “gotta help us breed our omega yoongi” he slurs. clutching posessively at you. The words so unexpected but so right. Namjoon can’t take his eyes off Yoongi. While in his arms. jimin tries not to dose- thoroughly spent. 

- It’s the kind of language that Namjoon’s used with you before- calling you their omega- though you’re human you know what it means. To be theirs, taken care of and knocked up and fucked out. You and Namjoon- for the amount you bicker like an old married couple. Also communicate a lot,

- Though talk of your fantasies has mostly been pillow talk. Both of you spoke of wanting this before it happened and of your feelings for the others too. Namjoon had squealed almost as much as you had when you’d told him of jimin’s confession.

- You’d done your best to learn all you could about hybrids. So it never struck you as strange when Namjoon had come to you and confessed that Yoongi would one day be apart of his pack. Namjoon’s alpha instincts choosing Yoongi- spreading protectively over the snake hybrid. Namjoon hadn’t had much control over who was accepted into his pack- much in the same way that you have never have control over who you fall in love with.

- And maybe it was through you- that Namjoon and Yoongi eventually found a way to connect beyond the touches. Because Yoongi looks at the utter mess of your entrance, splattered with jimin and Namjoon cum and growls. His hands barely brushing your skin as he guides you to spread your legs and bare yourself to him. You dont understand what obsession they have with looking at your cunt- but there has to be something. 

- Namjoon ever insatiable even snakes his hand around to spread you out for Yoongi. Teasing at your outer lips before his thumb presses against your clit- making your legs tremble. His touches so slow and firm, enough to make you absolutely desperate for another orgasm.

- Yoongi won’t touch you, he won’t make you cum- you know that enough by now because as much as Yoongi loves the intimacy you have it’s still too much for him. But one of his fangs hangs out over his lip when Namjoon starts to finger you. Rubbing their cum into your clit. And like you could read his mind, Yoongi starts up his stroking above you. 

- He never breaks eye contact with you. Beside you, Jimin shifts to watch. His sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. “I’m not going to stop until you’re squirting,” 

- “Why do you always want to- ah- make me messy?” you tease Namjoon- bickering with him even now. “Who knows maybe dirt is just my kink.” 

- Jimin snorts, “You hate gardening Namjoon-“ you laugh, but you’re also squirming in overstimulation, as Namjoon’s thumb teases and teases until you’re trembling, and you want to gasp say that you can’t possibly cum again- but a look over your shoulder tells you that Namjoon knows you can. Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours when you look back, and you see the sweat on his temple, Namjoon’s hand speeding up when his does.

- Cumming after a few minutes with a gush that makes your cheeks flame. Hips jerking up and off the bed as you squirt- pussy clenching so hard that it forces their cum out to drip. Timed with you again- the intimacy of it all- of Cumming together, Yoongi’s cum spurting all over your stomach before he directs it to your clit. Mixing with the other hybrids cum. 

- You’re thoroughly spent, legs falling open with no shame to hide you from the painful friction that would surely arise if anything touched your clit right now. Reaching out for arms that gladly take you. Ready to have them close.

- Jimin sits up, brain finally a little clearer as the pheromones in the room start to dissipate, leaning forward to hasten a lick Over your entrance tasting all of you intermingled makes his tail wag. But you’re a little too sensitive even for that- and you pull Jimin away before he can give a second lick, and he curls up close to you in the next second, face buried in your shoulder. 

- He’s just as fucked out at you are, wrung out and hung to dry by all of this intimacy and pleasure making his body feel satisfied and settled. Unwilling to move from this bed. speaking only through whines and grumbles. Practically non verbal- and brought low into his hybrid headspace. Jimin and Namjoon don’t mind the mess on you. To them- it just smells like pack and home.

- He’s dimly aware of Yoongi going to the bathroom to get a rag for you- because as much as you love the feeling of all of their cum filling you up you really don’t want to have to change your sheets and luckily for you- most of the mess of your lovemaking has been well contained On you skin and your well placed blanket that can easily be exchanged for a fresh one.

- Namjoon softly turns jimin over onto his stomach, Jimin’s red cock pressed uncomfortably to the bed as they wipe down the release on Jimin’s back too. (Had Namjoon cum there? rutting in-between Jimin’s ass cheeks as he’d been inside you? and had Jimin been too lost in the throws of his passion to realize?)

- “I love you Yoongi, thank you for letting us do this, thank you for being apart of this.” he hears you say, and it makes Jimin’s tail wag.

- He stays awake long enough to hear Namjoon switch the fan on and to feel Namjoon swallow both you and Jimin in his arms. He hears them quietly conversing. “Are you sure you don’t want to come closer?” Yoongi must indicate one way or another. Because Namjoon quietly settles. 

- The bed shifts, and he gathers Yoongi must have curled up several inches to the left of him. jimin squirms- wishing he’d come closer. but then he feels the slow trail of Yoongi’s fingers just along his spine and smiles into your hair.

- He wants to reach out, to pull him closer- but Jimin won’t know that touch is so tenuous for him. He knows him not partaking tonight isn’t anything to do with not loving you three. Jimin will respect Yoongi’s boundaries for as long as it takes for Yoongi to not feel a bit of the aching hesitation he suffers through when it comes to loving his pack. His eyes closed, he feels fingers trail along the edge of his hairline, ears flicking and nose twitching, Jimin lets out a happy little puppy grumble.

- “Love you” he finds himself whispering against your hair, “love you all so much” his words are slurry and not all there. And he’s rewarded with Namjoon muttering it back, reaching out to run a hand gently along his cheeks. A large hand knots in his hair, not rubbing through and just gripping, and jimin knows its Yoongi hand.

- Yoongi stays awake that night until all of you are asleep, wishing that for once- he felt the pull of Namjoon’s alphaness the same way Jimin did. The younger certainly seemed hazy; all of the tension in his body giving way with Namjoon’s will exert itself over him. But he’s content to see them the way they are now, all soft and vulnerable. Namjoon and Yoongi bookending the both of you curled together in the middle. So peaceful. Yoongi hopes he can make the two of you feel as safe as Namjoon makes you feel.

- Yoongi reaches out to touch your face, thumb drifting a hair's breadth from your lips, he knows he could never hurt you- never even dream of it. His mistress- owner- this mission was doomed from the start. He was yours- for all intents and purposes of the words. Yoongi didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Other than your bed at that moment. 

- And when he closes his eyes He imagines all the ways that he would touch you if he could. How he would have touched you tonight if he’d just allowed himself too. Maybe in the future- maybe in a few days when he gets used to this togetherness he’ll get to be close to you in the way he so desperately wants. Tonight was so nice, and with you smelling like all three of them. Yoongi feels like he’s apart of this- in a way that he hasn’t felt before. 

- it’s not only touches he wants- it’s the love you share too. All of the words he would whisper low in your ears where he able. He’d find out your favorite foods and cook them every day, find out everything you like- badger you even. So that he could learn your favorite things and hopefully earn the right of being one of your favorite things too. 

- He imagines the three of you holding him close in the winter and giving him space in the spring when his skin gets all sheady and itchy. Maybe you’d even make him one of those oatmeal baths that you’d started to favor towards the end of your pregnancy to help ease the shedding process. he imagines Jimin prodding at his scales and counting them. Namjoon kissing the ones behind his ear. 

- Yoongi thinks of the future you have with namjoon and jimin and thinks about you and your child. Yoongi imagines for a second even though the image hurts; what it would be like to see them. He feels his heart ache so viscerally it’s too much- he can’t think about that. 

- He can't think about what he can’t have. In the next few days he’s going to do his best to love you three and protect you and then that will be that. that's all yoongi gets. Not a life with you or a family with you. And then he opens his eyes, swallowing. And thinks that even if he doesn’t get to see all of that- at least- at the very least, he can savor every moment like it might be the last.

- And it is the last moment, Five. 

-  Four. He leaves the room to get a glass of water. If he’d known, maybe he would have looked back when he crossed over the threshold of your bedroom door. The clock ticking down to zero in an instant like a timer left unwatched. 

- Three. If he’d known, maybe he would have leaned over Jimin’s body to kiss your lips- just to kiss you once. Given Namjoon a kiss too. Touched Jimin's face to say ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the love you want, but they’ll give it to you in my absence,”

- Two. On his ways down the stairs, the house is quiet and so familiar. The only home he’s ever had, the only place he’s ever wanted to stay forever.

- One. He’s just on the landing, when he sees the car out-front, black with its lights off, but if he listens he can still hear it running, as quiet as a mountain lions purr. Then He hears a quiet knock at the door. And Yoongi pauses on the steps.

- The clock stops at zero.

- The cherry of her lit cigarette is the only thing that glimmers in the moonlight with any color. That and the red tip of her tongue as she rolls it over her teeth. Yoongi freezes in fear the second he sees his owner, standing with her arm against the doorframe. 

- A wash of cigarette smoke tainting the scents of all of you on him. He sees her farce, her thinly veiled superiority, and the tenseness in her body. Three men behind her. it’s all a lie, she’s angry and she’s afraid and she’s a devil in human skin. 

- “Times up Yoongi.” One moment- he just needs one more moment. Holds up her finger and for once, she listens. Taps her foot impatiently. 

- The house is quiet, upstairs you sleep on, unaware of what happens below. 

- The next morning you wake up to Jimin and Namjoon curled up close. Their soft breathes intermingling in the golden light of morning. Jimin nosing underneath your chin. You cuddle close for a moment letting the safety of sleep melt away, before you sigh and get up to get dressed. The heats broken over the night, and you wrap your fluffy robe around your shoulders just to feel a little cozy. You don’t know why you feel so restless, but it’s like your bones are cold.

- Things are too quiet, the hum of Yoongi’s air conditioners aren’t running, aren’t filling the top floor of your house with their white noise hum. And you realize something’s wrong the second you pause by his door. Usually, his air conditioners run through the night, and leave the space under his door and immediately outside in the hall cooler to the touch, but a look inside after a nock reveals his room is empty, his straw hat is missing from its hook too. You’d assumed he’d left after last night to sleep in his own room because yours was too warm.

- You spill out onto the first floor of your house looking for him, searching for him by the coffee maker or on the couch watching the morning news, but a small commotion, terse hush words interrupt your train of thought.

- The cat hybrids are crowded around something on the table. Breakfast barely even started. One of them turns when they see you in the doorway and if any of them notice something different about your scent- probably drenched with both all of your hybrids. None of them say anything. If you had to guess- you’d say that whatevers wrong is much more pressing than any hybrid faux pas.

- “We were going to wake you” one of them says, biting her lower lip, her torn ear twitching. “We didn’t think you’d want us to move it until you saw.”

- The crowd parts, and you pull up to the side of the prep table. a blanket is folded on the table- it’s Yoongi’s- the heated one. The one that he needs to sleep if he’s going to not wake up shaky and too cold in the middle of the night. His sun hat- the one he always wears sitting on top of it, a little note sitting there too tucked into the leather band.

- The simple note- two words that aren’t enough to soothe the sudden panic in your veins. “I’m sorry” written in his neat scrawl. The words he wants to say but can’t- had to erase and then scribble over so you can’t read them. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, I would if I could, and I want too so bad. it’s not your fault that i had to go.” 

- But there are just those two. I’m sorry. Not enough and almost visceral in the way that they shock the air out of your lungs. You gasp- almost falling with the way it hits you. You wish it wasn’t true, but deep down you know what it means.

- Yoongi is gone. 

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators! 

Kofi

[norcumii]

...oh thanks, Tumblr, it wasn’t like I was trying to answer that ask or anything. -_-

OHKAY. Take two! For this trope mashup meme, @dogmatix asked:

Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Apocalyse AU / Mermaid/Siren AU / Aroused by their voice

This modern!AU got a liiiiiittle bit more absurdist than planned, but NO REGRETS. Assistance was provided by @dharmaavocado and @deadcatwithaflamethrower -- THANK YOU BOTH!

*****

There was a lovely breeze coming in across the ocean, the sky had just enough puffy white clouds to keep things interesting, and Rex was taking a maintenance day. The last family group of tourists to charter a day trip had included several children that were at least two parts sticky and three parts grime. His poor Vigilance needed a serious scrub down, and Rex was not looking forward to restocking. Small Grubby Fiend 1 had stumbled – supposedly due to a sudden swell, but more likely because Small Grubby Fiends 2 and 3 hadn’t stopped ‘not kicking’ each other for way too long. Not being an entire idiot, Rex has gone right for the band-aids with cartoon characters, but since it wasn’t a cartoon Small Grubby Fiend 1 liked, that meant another – until all three Small Grubby Fiends had been plastered with far more of his first aid kit than was good for anyone.

It had been a long day.

So there he was, untangling life-vests that hadn’t even been used, while singing along with whatever music was playing from the boat’s speakers. Rex wasn’t sure if the music was pop, rock, or some other unholy category he’d never heard of, but thankfully it didn’t matter. He liked it, and could figure out which of Tup’s mix tapes it was on, which was the important thing.

Tup always made hilarious offended noises when Rex called them mix tapes, which was a significant reason why he did so. They were music folders, sensibly labeled by mood, because his little brother had realized at some point that was the only way to keep Rex up to date on anything past the 90’s grunge music.

Tup’s accusation, not his. Rex damn well knew how to use a radio – several kinds of radio, thank you very much.

He was several songs into mind-numbing chores when he spotted a flash of red streaking under the dock, and Rex ducked his head to hide a grin. He’d started spotting movement like that a couple of weeks ago, around the time the neighbors descended on their beach house. There were several ginger teenagers, so he figured one of them was a hell of a water rat who had damn odd taste in music.

To be fair, so did he.

It’d been weird at first, realizing he had an audience that disappeared the moment he acknowledged their existence. But the most he heard or saw out of them beyond the momentary glimpse was a bit of percussion, someone drumming in time against the water – and once, the dock itself – so Rex had shrugged and accepted their presence. It was kinda nice, actually, just to have someone around. He lived a ways off the end of a long, sparsely populated road, and while he didn’t mind the solitude, sometimes you just wanted another–

Rex’s train of thought went off the rails with a loud yelp as he discovered something slimy stuck to the back of a life-vest. It might have been edible once – it was a shade of radioactive green he didn’t associate with anything other than candy or video games, at least, so that was his best guess. Much as he wanted to blame the Small Grubby Fiends, he hadn’t done more than a spot check of these vests for awhile – could’ve been anyone.

Ugh. At least unlike some clients he could name, Rex’s eavesdropper wasn’t vandalizing anything. Wasn’t about to begrudge that.

Rex had managed to get most of the neon green grossness cleared when the rumble of an approaching car caught his attention. He wasn’t expecting visitors, not that that had ever stopped any of his brothers. Lost delivery drivers usually turned around before hitting up the driveway, which was long enough and had enough private property signs to keep out idiots looking for easy water access.

“Who the hell is this?” he muttered, setting the vest aside. He didn’t recognize the little black car, or the burly guy stepping out of the passenger’s side, but the guy waved and casually started towards Rex as if he knew who the hell he was.

Not reassuring, especially since the stranger rapped the car’s roof, and it headed back up the driveway.

“You seem lost,” Rex said, standing up and trying to look just the right level of intimidating.

“Nope,” the guy said back, still heading towards him. “Need your boat.”

“That’s work related – you need to wait till I’m back at the marina tomorrow. I’m at home, it’s my day off.”

Burly guy finally stopped, planting his hands on his hips – a move which just happened to part the jacket of his cheap suit enough that Rex could see the gun he carried. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Fett. I don't want any trouble – I just want you to head inside, and take that day off while I borrow your boat.”

Oh, FUCK. Nobody really talked about how the mob owned most of the marinas in Tatooine Bay, but you didn’t need to declare water was wet to get drenched in the rain. It just wasn’t something that ever happened to someone you knew, just friends of friends or something.

“And if I don’t agree?” he couldn’t keep from asking.

Burly Guy had a surprisingly expressive shrug. “Most people don’t enjoy pushing their luck that far.”

To his credit, it was a remarkably polite threat. “I’m surprised anyone ever does.”

“Eh, every now and then there’s some freaky masochist looking for cheap thrills, but it ain’t my kink. Don’t think it’s yours, either, so if you’d just head inside, that’d be appreciated.”

The smart move was probably to comply. Rex wasn’t inclined to cooperate anyways. He was saved from making either bad decision by...sound.

It didn’t register as singing – there was something too off about it, a combination that wasn’t quite autotune, or that polyphonic singing Echo had gotten into when Fives got obsessed with the guitar. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right in a way that was madly distracting.

The...singing? – pulled both Rex and the goon around towards the end of the dock, and if Rex hadn’t been so muzzy-headed from that sound he would have been gaping much more blatantly.

There was someone slipping out from under the dock, and it was most definitely not one of the neighbors.

It was a trim, shirtless figure in the water – ginger indeed, short red hair just dry enough to be messy spikes. Pale skin was freckled in scales of shimmering reds, protective lines over what would be vulnerable areas on a human. It swam close enough to the surface that Rex could see the sleek fins and tail, and part of his brain kept screaming ‘mermaid!’ while the rest took in the long, sharp claws on webbed hands and whispered ‘predator.’ Its singing showed sharply pointed teeth, and it should not have been nearly that gorgeous.

The mermaid glanced over at him, eyes a deep blue-on-blue that could never masquerade as human, flicking a look up and down him that could have been flattering or terrifying – it all depended on if that was measuring him for a meal euphemistically or not.

The singing changed as the creature turned its attention back to the goon, and the magnetic pull on Rex lessened. He staggered back a step, not too surprised to find he was halfway down the dock without noticing. The hazy feeling in his brain stopped, or at least dropped down to levels that were close enough to normal, so he got a clear view as the goon started walking into the water, oblivious to everything except the mer-siren-thing he was shambling towards.

The siren moved when the goon was almost waist deep in the water, flowing forward to delicately place a hand at the goon’s throat. The singing continued, but now there was a new undertone, soft and somehow questioning. Rex couldn’t tell if there were words to it or not – maybe a whole other language for all he knew – but the goon responded, voice soft enough that he couldn’t make out what was said.

Whatever he said, it didn’t please the siren. It kept singing, but it snarled, showing more of those pointed teeth, then it twisted and dove, hauling the unresisting goon under the water.

A terrifying few moments more, and the last hums of the song seemed to stop vibrating through the water.

“What the absolute fuck?” Rex said numbly. Thank everything, no one answered.

A smart man would’ve hidden inside, or driven off to a movie theater or something – inland and away. Rex wasn’t sure why he stayed: curiosity – morbid or otherwise – shock, or a healthy disbelief in the whole debacle. He was maybe a bit too numb to not have some kind of shock, but –

He felt like he maybe deserved it. “Yeah, I can have a bit of shock,” Rex muttered to himself. “As a treat.”

Okay, he might have more than a bit. But by the time the siren poked his head out of the water again – politely out of arms’ reach – Rex had calmed down a decent degree. They just looked at each other for a bit, then the siren gave him a polite nod.

“Hello there,” he said in a pleasant, deep voice with a hell of an accent.

Rex held up a hand, needing a moment. Of fucking course the British even colonized under the goddamned sea. “Hi. You speak English.” It wasn’t quite the most inane thing he could’ve said, but his brain hadn’t managed to catch up yet.

He was talking to a goddamned mermaid who had just kidnapped and possibly eaten some mob thug who’d been trying to take Rex’s boat. It had been a day.

“You’re not the first land-dweller I’ve made the acquaintance of.”

Rex absolutely refused to make any kind of a crack about being charmed. There was too much hysteria lurking in there. “Speaking of acquaintances, you didn’t, ah, kill that guy, did you?”

The siren’s lips pulled back from his teeth a little. “I still haven’t decided what to do with him, so right now he’s out of the way.” He must’ve seen something impressive in Rex’s expression, because the angry disdain smoothed over to something more neutral. “He’s stashed in a cave I know. Enough air to breathe, but the only entrance is underwater and too far for most humans to swim without assistance.”

That was...a lot. “Thanks for the help.”

The siren smiled, an oddly sweet, bashful expression. “I’d be a very poor guest if I didn’t assist.” He cleared his throat, his expression going awkward. “Though I...suppose ‘guest’ is a bit presumptive.”

Rex grinned. “No, I spotted you a couple weeks ago – ah, I mean, sort of.” Before he could make more a hash of that, he cleared his throat. “The name’s Rex.”

The siren folded his hands together and did a little bow thing. “Obi-Wan. Pleasure to meet you.”

He wasn’t blushing. He absolutely was not blushing. “So...you in town for long?” Ok, now he was blushing, that was worst subject change ever meeting worst fishing attempt – meeting worst and wildly inappropriate pun.

Obi-Wan’s expression fell, sorrow way too visible in those non-human eyes. “I suppose you could say that. I...no longer have a home to return to.”

Definitely not a topic to change to. Right. Rex cleared his throat and shifted. “Well. You’re welcome anytime, for what that’s worth.”

The slow-growing smile didn’t remove that sorrow, but it did kindle something warm inside. This was at least three different kinds of trouble, but Rex didn’t think he’d regret any of it.

~end

[agerefandom]

Kitchen Friends

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Regressor!Reader (he/him pronouns), cgs!Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes

Words: 2,600

Summary: Bucky and Steve have been your friends for almost a year, and you don’t usually host the dinner nights. It’s a little stressful, but you’re excited to see Bucky and Steve!

Content Warnings: anxiety mentions, accidental injury, blood, involuntary regression, caregiver accidentally pushing too hard and getting called out, regression accidentally getting revealed. Brief references to wartime and trauma.

for @shadowdreamer5​

It had been a rough day and you weren’t sure why.

Nothing upsetting had happened, but you woke up anxious and the feeling lingered through the day. You tried to push it down, get your chores finished. Steve and Bucky were coming over tonight, and you wanted your apartment to be presentable. Which meant you needed to do the dishes you’d been avoiding for the past few days.

Luckily, you’d already done the groceries, so you didn’t have to leave the house (just the thought made your heart beat faster).

With the help of your favourite playlist, you got down to business in the late afternoon. The dishes were finished, the floors were vacuumed, and you’d even dusted a few shelves before giving up on that particular chore.

You ran over your evening plans as you hummed along to the music. Steve and Bucky had been over to your place before, but this was the first time you were serving dinner. Usually, you just lost track of time when you were together and ended up ordering pizza when you realized it was dinnertime. Their apartment was much nicer, so you’d been there for dinner more often. Both Steve and Bucky were great cooks, and you were well-aware that you probably weren’t going to measure up, but that was alright. It was the thought that counted, as Steve often reminded you.

Steve was a good friend. You’d met Bucky first, at the library, both of you favouring the same reading nook tucked away in a private corner. After awkwardly running into each other for the fifth time, you had both resigned yourself to being friends. Bucky had introduced you to Steve later that week, and you’d been… well. Doing your best not to hyperventilate while meeting Captain America. He probably got that a lot.

You didn’t know their entire history, but you knew that they had been friends before the war (and wasn’t that strange to think about, the Second World War being something that they remembered?), and you knew that Bucky preferred to keep out of the media. As far as most of the world was concerned, Bucky Barnes had died in service seventy years ago. You hadn’t asked why he was walking around a public library in the twenty-first century, but you learned pieces of both of their past as you got to know them. It was a history defined by combat, duty, and bonds. You could understand why they now lived the way they did, deliberately normal: farmer’s markets and library books, flowers on the dining table. It was a reclaiming exercise, a carefully cultivated domestic sphere to retreat into when the fighting was done.

You smiled as you finished washing the bathroom sink, rinsing the suds down the drain. It was a keen pleasure to be included in their domestic life, your home a new retreat for them. They picked up your favourite Netflix shows, asked about your preferred stores and where you got your favourite button-up. While both of them seemed well-adjusted to the current time period, there was always much more to learn.

Your reverie was broken by a knock on the door.

Oh, crap. That was probably them. Was it really six already? You’d completely lost track of the time, and you’d been so busy with chores that you hadn’t started any of the food.

You eyed your sparkling bathroom with new contempt, tossed your sponge back onto the side of the bathtub, and went to open the door.

Sure enough, Steve and Bucky stood in the hall. Bucky was holding a salad and Steve cradled a plate of brownies. They were dressed down in jeans and t-shirts, Bucky’s shirt featuring a cat wearing sunglasses and Steve’s a plain grey.

“I told you guys not to bring anything,” you greeted them, frowning at the food in their hands.

“It felt wrong to come over with our hands empty,” Steve shrugged, and gave you the brownies. The pan was still slightly warm, and you were sure they were going to be melty, soft, and delicious. The man had a talent.

“Well, come in,” you said, and went to drop the brownies on the kitchen counter. “I haven’t started dinner yet, I’m sorry.” You were feeling a little more settled now that they were here. They toed off their shoes and put them in their place by the door. Bucky dropped the salad on the table and leaned on the counter as you grabbed vegetables from the fridge.  

“Can we help?” Bucky said, snagging a red pepper from your hand and a cutting board from the dish-pile.

“Looks like you’re going to,” you pointed out. “And yeah, that would be great. Thank you.”

“What can I do?” Steve asked, joining you in the kitchen.

“Cut the broccoli and the beans.” You pushed them both into his arms, and put a cutting board on top. “It’s for a casserole, so cut them bite-sized.”

Steve offered a shining smile, balancing his armful of equipment. “Yessir,” he quipped, and went to do his work at the table, since your little kitchen was already a bit cramped with two people sharing counter-space.

“How have you been?” Bucky asked, slicing his pepper open and carving out the seeds inside. “It’s been over a week since we caught up.”

“Busy. Tired,” you said honestly. “Pulling through.”

“I feel that,” Bucky sighed. “Thanks for having us over, by the way. We’ve been looking forward to it.”

“So have I!” Your hands are busy peeling potatoes over the sink, but you give Bucky a smile. “Gives me a reason to clean the apartment, too.”

“We should come over more often,” Bucky teased.

“Maybe you should.”

You turned back to your work with a smile, but just then, your knife hit an odd divot in the potato you were peeling and dashed sideways into your thumb. You hissed as the blade cut into your finger, and dropped everything into the sink. The clatter caught the others’ attention, and Bucky was at your side in a flash.

Blood welled in the cut, and you felt abruptly dizzy. You’d never been good with blood, you remembered your mother teasing you about it when she’d cut herself in the kitchen. It had been just like this, dripping into the sink, and you’d cried and clung to her despite her protests.

You could feel the tears in your eyes now, either from the pain or the surprise. The blood kept coming, and you were scared. What if you had to go to the hospital? You hated the hospital. Needles and doctors and that awful smell of people dying. You couldn’t go to the hospital. They couldn’t make you go.

“It’s alright,” you could hear Bucky saying. “Just a little cut, Steve, get his first-aid kit. Above the bathroom sink.” A hand on your shoulder, solid but gentle. “Hey, it’s alright. We’ll get it patched up right away.”

“Sorry,” you managed. Somewhere in the back of your head, you were aware that you were over-reacting to a little cut. But mostly you were just scared and tired and dizzy. “Bad at blood.” The weight of the day was rushing back in all at once, and you couldn’t handle it on top of everything else. Your knees gave out, but Bucky was there, scooping you up.

You could feel the cold of his metal arm even through the back of your t-shirt, his other arm looped under your knees as he lifted you.

“Oops,” Bucky said, as if he hadn’t meant to pick you up. “To the bathroom, I guess.”

You knew you shouldn’t, that you should protest and try to walk, but you couldn’t help but curl into Bucky’s chest as he carried you. They were so strong, these two, and it was easy to see in their bodies, but it was a different thing to feel the ease with which he lifted you, almost heedless of your weight.

“Is he okay?” you heard Steve ask, and the rustle of a bag. Probably your first-aid kit? Bucky said something about that.

“Overwhelmed,” Bucky said, and shifted you around in his arms. Suddenly, you were sitting on the couch on Bucky’s lap, which was kind of silly but also surprisingly comfy. “Ready for Doctor Rogers to fix that finger up?” he asked you, carefully picking up your injured hand.

You did your best to frown at him, but you were well aware that it probably looked more like a pout. He was talking to you like he knew that you were fighting off your regression, and that wasn’t fair at all. Bucky and Steve didn’t even know that you were a regressor.

Something cold pressed against your thumb, making you jump. You looked over to see Steve carefully wiping the blood from your hand, his expression almost comically focused on the task. He was even gentler with the area around the cut, but you still winced.

Bucky put a hand on the back of your neck, humming sympathetically.

Seriously, what was up with them? It felt like they were falling into caregiver behaviour, and you couldn’t call them out on that. But it was making it harder and harder to fight your regression, and you didn’t know what to do.

“Sorry, bud, but we’ve got to clean it before you get a band-aid,” Steve said, and smeared some cream across the cut. It didn’t hurt, but you weren’t expecting it, and you made a sharp noise of complaint. “Almost done,” Steve reassured you.

“Being so brave,” Bucky said, squeezing your uninjured hand. “Good job.”

Alright, that was it. That was not something that someone should say to an adult who had given himself a little cut. You pulled your hand from Steve’s grasp and got off Bucky’s lap, stumbling a little but determined to make your point.

“What’s going on?” you asked, hearing your voice wavering on the line between regressed and adult. “Why are you guys treating me like a kid?”

Steve and Bucky shared a look, and Steve ducked his head slightly.

“I’m sorry if we overstepped,” Steve said. “We… hm.” He stalled out, glancing at you and then at Bucky. “Do you know about a thing called age regression?” Steve said.

“I- what?” Your knees felt so weak. What was happening right now?

“It’s a coping mechanism, usually a reaction to trauma or stress,” Bucky explained. You could barely hear him over your heartbeat in your ears. “We saw it a lot in the tents between missions. People who feel a little younger when they’re not doing well. We didn’t have a word for it at the time.”

“We didn’t mean to push things,” Steve said, still apologetic. “I guess we have, patterns, for dealing with people who seem younger than usual. We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You guys are… caregivers?” you managed.

“Yes!” Steve perked up. “Or, at least, we’d like to be. It was… it was…” He trailed off, and you noticed that Bucky had started holding his hand at some point.

“It was one of the things we shared with our old team,” Bucky finished for him. “We miss it. It was part of how we relaxed, taking care of our friends. But Steve’s right, we shouldn’t have pushed things with you. Old habits.”

“No, it’s. It’s okay.” You stared at your feet, feeling overwhelmed and dizzy and impossibly far behind. “You’re right, I’m a regressor. I didn’t think you knew.”

“We didn’t, really,” Bucky said. “Not until now.”

“I’m sorry.” The tears were threatening to start again, and you didn’t even know why. This was all so big and it felt so important but you couldn’t think. Your head hurt from all the crying, and your thumb was still aching, and you should have had dinner in the oven an hour ago. “I messed it all up.”

“No!” Both of them said immediately.

“We’re the ones who messed up,” Steve continued. “Of course it was scary to have your friends treat you like a child. Even if you were regressing, it would have been disorienting. We should have said something.”

“Maybe.” Steve has a point, it was pretty confusing. And they could have just asked you. “But it was nice.”

“Yeah? It wasn’t bad?” Bucky asked, looking hopeful.

“Gosh, no, of course not,” you rushed to reassure him. “It was really nice. I was just trying to stay big, and you were making it hard. But it was nice.” You needed to find another word, but it was just… nice!

“Well. You can be big if you want,” Steve said, fiddling with the corner of the first-aid bag. “You can put your own band-aid on and cook dinner.” You wait, knowing from his tone that he isn’t finished. “Or… we could help you put the band-aid on, and I can finish dinner while you show Bucky what you like to do when you’re younger.”

“That sounds good,” you confessed. “The second one.” You were still wavering in your adult headspace, and all you wanted to do is climb back into Bucky’s lap.

“Yeah?” Steve and Bucky both looked cheered by the idea. It was sweet that they were so excited about this. It must have really been something the two of them missed.

“Yeah.” You dug your socked toes into the carpet, suddenly shy. “Um, I’m pretty… small though. I dunno if you really want that.”

“How old are you, bud?” Steve asked, leaning forward.

You held your hand out with three fingers up. Now that you knew the nicknames are deliberate, they pushed you even deeper into your regression. You weren’t sure you could have talked if you wanted to.

“That’s not small at all,” Steve said seriously. “I think you’re a very big, brave boy, who still needs a band-aid for his finger.”

Bucky patted his lap and held out a hand, a clear invitation.

You walked forward to him, feeling a little out of your body, certain that this was a dream. But Bucky’s lap was just as comfy as you remembered, and it was easy to lean into his chest and drift. Steve lifted your hand, wiped it down again, and then produced a band-aid from the bag. It was one of your patterned ones, and you fought the urge to hide your face when you realized it was one of the Iron Man ones.

“Ah, I see how it is,” Steve teased, and then gently wrapped it around your finger, smoothing the adhesive. “Well, as long as you’re protected, it’s alright.” He kissed the tip of your finger where it poked out from the band-aid, and this time you couldn’t fight the instinct to hide your face against Bucky’s chest.

“You’re embarrassing him,” Bucky chuckled, running a hand over the back of your head, fingers slipping through your hair. “Give him a break, he’s only three.”

You made a little happy sound and pushed into Bucky’s fingers. You’d always liked getting your head petted when you were regressed. It was the most wonderful feeling, especially after a bottle or a warm meal.

Bucky obediently continued to pet your head, and Steve got to his feet.

“Well, I’d better tackle dinner,” Steve said. “You two enjoy the rest, and I’ll let you know when it’s in the oven.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky said. “I think it’s going to be a good night, even if dinner’s a little late.”

Nuzzling closer into Bucky’s chest as his fingers trailed through your hair, you found that you had to agree.